Pale Horse
by Penn Flinn
Summary: When STAR Labs is sabotaged by an invisible opponent, Iris and Caitlin are trapped in quarantine with a deadly nerve toxin. Faced with buried secrets, government interference, and a string of calculated murders, the entire team must work together to catch the killer and beat the clock. (Based on the 1990 episode "Sight Unseen.")
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, and thank you for checking this fic out! A bit of background:**

 **I wanted to take a break from the super heavy stuff and do something a bit more episodic, which is why I turned to the real gem that is the 1990 Flash TV series. A few months back I marathoned the entire series and was struck by the episode "Sight Unseen," which had actual suspense and character moments and a focus on the interactions between two ladies. I decided it would be a great episode to update for the modern show; I did a similar thing back when I wrote for the _Star Trek_ fandom and it was good fun.**

 **Much of the dialogue in this fic is ripped directly from the 1990 episode, but there are notable changes and additions. Thanks for giving it a shot, and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

An eye-roll was suitable for the situation, Caitlin decided. An eye-roll was usually suitable whenever Barry began babbling at speeds almost too fast to comprehend. She allowed herself a private one as she continued walking, Barry trailing anxiously behind her.

"Okay, so Cisco and I doped all the races, right?" he was saying. "Now, Gumlags is a long shot in the fourth, but I…"

Caitlin dumped the stack of papers she'd been carrying on the desk with a satisfying thud, then turned to face the speedster. "Barry, I'd love to go horseracing with you and Cisco, but I _can't_."

"What do you mean, you _can't_?" Barry said, emphasizing the last word as she had.

Caitlin sighed. "Look at all this. I have to finish it."

It wasn't even a lie. She'd been working on this project for days, and she was one breakthrough away from completing it. Barry shouldn't have been complaining; she'd been working on developing a new drug for him that would allow for the administration of painkillers without compromising his speed.

"A few weeks ago you broke five ribs and got stabbed in the shoulder," she reminded him. "I'm surprised you're not begging me to keep researching."

Still, Barry waved the newspaper clipping he'd been marking up. "Aw, come on, Cait. It's tote bag night. Don't you want your free tote bag? With the…you know, the lucky horseshoe patch?"

"Yes I do," Caitlin said drily. "More than anything, I've been dreaming about that free tote bag. But you and Cisco go on without me."

"Come on, you've been working on this project all week," Barry whined. "One more day is not going to matter."

"Oh?" Caitlin said, raising an eyebrow. "And what if one of those horses at the horserace is an evil meta horse who tears your arm halfway off of your body? I bet you're going to want painkillers then."

Barry crossed the arms in question and pouted.

Caitlin gave him a once-over. "What is this really about? Why the sudden interest in horse races? Is this some part of your personality that I somehow missed for two years?"

Barry shrugged. She knew his body language well enough by now to sense the discomfort, and she softened.

"No," he said. "It's just...it's been so long since we've done anything exciting, all of us."

"Just two days ago we fought a metahuman who could transform into a giant snake."

"Exciting but not life-threatening," Barry amended. "You know, like the old days. Just us poor awkward millennials against the world."

"Most poor awkward millennials wouldn't consider horseracing the solution to any problem," Caitlin teased, but she knew that the sentiment was heartfelt. With all of the craziness that permeated their lives nowadays, they hadn't had much time to simply exist as friends. Not like they used to. "I promise, once this is over, we'll make a point of it. I just…really can't tonight, okay? I think there's roller derby happening this weekend. I've always wanted to see roller derby."

Barry considered, cocked his head to the side in thought. "I suppose roller derby could work."

"What about Iris?" Caitlin said. "Didn't you invite her?"

"Doesn't like horses," Barry said. "Trust me, I know."

"Did someone say something about horses?" Like many of the unexpected visitors who walked into the STAR cortex, Iris' timing was impeccable. "You know I hate those suckers."

"Just because you got bucked off of one at a Girl Scouts camp—"

"I would say that's a pretty valid reason for being terrified," Iris said, shooting Barry a reproachful look before turning to Caitlin. "Is he trying to convince you to go to the horseraces?"

Caitlin nodded. "I can't. I've got to stay here and finish this."

"Mind if I hang out here, too?" Iris asked. "Some of my neighbors are throwing a party tonight, and I need to finish an article."

Caitlin waved toward a chair— _Go ahead_. Barry threw up his hands. "Okay, I get the hint. Don't work too hard tonight, okay?"

This time, the affectionate eye-rolling was synchronous between Caitlin and Iris. "Good night, Barry."

Realizing the battle was lost, the speedster zipped out, leaving only a trail of fluttering papers in his wake. With him gone, the lab was again draped in quiet, in stillness.

Instead of sitting, Iris leaned over the desk toward Caitlin to get a look at the stack of papers. "Is this the same serum you've been working on since Saturday?"

Caitlin ran a hand through her hair, letting out a long breath. "I got a little distracted by the giant snake meta."

"That's fair," Iris said. "You're close, though, right?" Caitlin nodded, and Iris pushed herself upright. "Well, let me know if you need any help, okay? I'm going to head down to the break room to work on this. I'm always inspired by a full fridge."

Caitlin grinned. "There's leftover pizza in there from last night. Help yourself."

"And you," Iris said, brandishing a pen threateningly at Caitlin, "don't forget to eat. I will be checking on you in one hour to make sure you're not letting yourself starve, alright?"

"Deal," Caitlin said. "Good luck on your article."

Iris made an exaggeratedly pain-filled face before turning toward the door. She disappeared without another word, her heels clicking all the way down the hallway beyond.

Caitlin settled into her work, resigned to at least an hour of uninterrupted focus. The pages full of text, _her_ text, threatened to blur together. With a twinge, she wished she was out with Barry and Cisco, or at least out of STAR doing karaoke with Iris, _something_ —but obligation pushed her head down toward the page, her fingers tapping idly against keys.

With her nose buried in her work, she didn't notice the flickering of lights in the hallway behind her, nor the door that swung open, then closed, of its own accord.

* * *

 _With a giant snake-man on the loose, Central City faced one of its most formidable and unusual foes yet…_

Iris frowned at her laptop screen, mouthing the words to herself, then backspaced viciously. She would've thought that after a year of helping out a team of superheroes, she would be better at writing about metahuman crime in the city. But hell, she hadn't studied any of this in grad school. Back then, the strangest thing she'd had to write about was people _dressed_ as superheroes trying to pull pranks on Halloween.

She needed a catchy name for this meta of the week. What had Cisco called him, again? Although his nicknames were usually cheesy at best and punny at worst, they always sold well in the papers. With Iris there to funnel his creations into the media, he had attained a sort of anonymous fame.

Though Iris always privately treasured the fact that she could take credit for naming Central City's most famous metahuman.

She picked up her phone to text Cisco, to ask what his name for this particular creature had been, but found that her phone had died. That was odd. She'd had at least a twenty-five percent charge when she'd come to STAR. And she hadn't been there all that long, had she?

She flung the now-useless object back on the couch and closed the laptop. Caitlin would know Cisco's ridiculous meta name, surely, and it was about time that they both ate—

Before she could stand, a screeching of a siren startled her so much that the laptop clattered to the floor. The lights of the break room cut out, leaving Iris in shadows, and the alarms pulsed continuously like a deafening heartbeat.

With every sense on edge, Iris stood and bolted for the door, then for the cortex. It wasn't just the break room lights that had gone out; it appeared that the entire building had gone dark. Iris ran, deaf against the concussive warnings bombarding her, mind jumping to a thousand different conclusions at once. None of them were good.

She nearly screamed when she ran into Caitlin halfway to the cortex. Caitlin was running her direction, perhaps with the same idea in mind, but she didn't stop. She grabbed Iris around the arm and pulled her forward, the two of them continuing in a sprint down the curved corridors.

"What's happening?" Iris yelled. Her panic levels rose to new heights when she saw where they were running—the exit of STAR, which was slowly being blocked by a descending wall of steel.

"Contamination lockdown," Caitlin called back, gesturing wildly toward the wall. " _Come on_!"

They weren't going to make it, and Iris knew that from the moment the wall began to descend. By the time they reached it, no amount of Indiana Jones level sliding would get them underneath. Caitlin still dropped to her knees hopefully, futilely, as it hit the floor.

"Damn it," she said under her breath.

 _Contamination lockdown_ , Iris thought, semi-detached amid the adrenaline rush. _We're being quarantined._ "Another exit," she said desperately. "We can try getting out another way."

"It's too late," Caitlin said, doubling over, panting. "The building will seal itself off." She looked up at Iris, face flushed. "Looks like we won't be leaving tonight after all."

* * *

 **Thanks again for reading! Please let me know what you think in the comments below; I really appreciate it. (Also if you stick around you'd best prepare yourself for this message every single chapter.)**

 **As with all of my fics, update schedule is Sunday/Wednesday!**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you bunches for the positive response to the first chapter! I love you all.**

 **This should give a feel for what the rest of the fic is like-we'll be jumping POV between the four members of Team Flash. Hopefully it's not too jarring, given that I haven't written outside of a single POV for almost a year now. Oops.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

When Barry stepped into his crime lab, Cisco was chewing innocently on a Red Vine from the pack he kept in Barry's desk drawer, his feet kicked up onto the desk itself.

"Dude," Barry said. "You know that desk is where I process evidence, right?"

"Come on, come on," Cisco said, heeding Barry's disapproving gaze and lowering his feet. He stood from the chair, opening his arms wide. "The ponies are waiting, man." As Barry circled around the desk to drop off some papers, Cisco shadowed him, singing lightly, " _I've got the horse right here, the name is Paul Revere. And here's a guy that…_ " When Barry ignored the goading, he pouted. "What, no love for classic musicals?"

"Plenty of love," Barry said distractedly. Cisco looked around.

"Come on, we got the guys. Where are the dolls?"

"The dolls are too busy working," Barry said, perching on the desk to face Cisco.

Cisco looked appalled. "This is bad. This is terrible. You've got to call them up quick. Tell them I'm dying and it's my last request to socialize with them at the horserace."

"It's no use," Barry said, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "They won't come. Not even for that compelling last request. I guess I'm the only one who will honor your dying wishes."

"Unbelievable." Cisco fished around in his pocket and drew out his phone. "I can convince Caitlin that I'm dying, right? She'll be over here in a flash—no pun intended—and once she's out of the lab she'll _have_ to come with us. And Iris won't want to be alone in STAR. You know much it spooks her."

"Spooks all of us," Barry corrected, who vividly remembered the time he'd answered Cisco's distress call only to find him pacing the empty halls with a sword, certain he'd heard a noise in the deserted building.

"This plan will work, just watch." Cisco hit the first number on his speed dial and held the phone to his ear. After only a second, he frowned, then hung up.

"Straight to voicemail," he said. "That's weird. She doesn't usually turn her phone off unless she's in a movie."

The words planted a seed of doubt in Barry's gut. He hated that feeling, the nagging, uncertain prickle; he'd been getting it more and more often as his friends put themselves in more and more danger. This—this was probably nothing. He pulled out his phone and dialed Iris.

" _You've reached the voicemail of Iris West. Sorry I can't come to the phone right now, but—"_

"Voicemail for Iris, too," Barry said, unnecessarily. Cisco was already dialing again. "Who are you calling now?"

"STAR Labs main phone line," Cisco said, pressing the phone to his ear. "We hardly ever use it, but…" His mouth clamped shut as he listened to the message on the other end. He'd always been like an open book. The change was immediate: the paling of his face, the tightening of his eyebrows.

"What is it?" Barry asked.

Wordlessly, Cisco took the phone away from his ear and hit speakerphone.

" _…_ _security lockdown. All phone lines are inoperable. STAR Labs is currently in security lockdown. All phone lines…"_

"What does that mean?" Barry said, feeling his mouth go dry. "I was just there. What…"

"Some kind of emergency at STAR," Cisco supplied. He hung up, and the phone dropped limply to his side. "Run, Barry."

* * *

"Are we going where I think we're going?" Iris said breathlessly, following Caitlin down the dark hallway, deep into the building. All common sense said they should be heading the other way, toward the edges of the lab, toward the _exits_ , but here they were, digging themselves six feet deep.

"If you think that we're going to the pipeline, then yes," Caitlin said. Crisis tended to put an edge to the other woman, Iris had come to learn. Caitlin was rarely so sharp, so focused, as when she was in emergency mode. Iris had seen that when Barry had nearly bled out from Zoom's stab wound, and she'd seen it again when Caitlin had fended off a rampaging Geomancer. "Whatever caused the lockdown seemed to also act as an EMP. I'm afraid it may have affected the pipeline cells."

"You think the meta from the other day might be loose," Iris said. "And again I ask, why are we running toward the pipeline?"

"Cisco keeps a Boot stashed down there," Caitlin said. "If the meta is loose, we can subdue him before he causes any more damage."

Iris still found the logic of this plan questionable at best, but she followed without protest. The Boot in question was tucked away on the landing in the stairwell just above the pipeline, in a glass case like a fire extinguisher. Appropriate, Iris thought. The Flash could put out fires in less than ten seconds. Metahumans on the loose—that was a more dire problem.

Iris pulled open the case and, with a nod to Caitlin, shrugged the Boot onto her shoulder. Instinctively, Caitlin dropped behind her and let her lead the rest of the way.

This is what her dad must have felt like, moving stealthily into volatile situations. She used what he had taught her: deliberate breaths, deliberate steps.

She peered around the corner before entering the pipeline, but there was no movement to signal danger. Cautiously, she rounded the corner, jerking her head sideways to let Caitlin know that it was safe.

When they stepped into the pipeline entrance, they saw that, indeed, the cell doors had been triggered by the power outages, and that the cell that the snake meta had once occupied was wide open. However, the snake meta himself was still in the pipeline. He was lying on the floor of the hallway, arms and legs splayed out awkwardly, eyes staring vacantly upward. There was no sign of blood or injury, but the man was unmistakably dead.

"Oh my god," Iris said, the weapon dropping to her side as she made a move toward the body. Before she could take a step, though, Caitlin threw out her arm.

"Don't touch him," she warned in a high, terrified, but still controlled voice. "Whatever contaminated the lab must have killed him." Her hand closed around Iris' wrist, tugging her backward. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Iris could not tear her eyes away from the dead meta, but finally Caitlin dragged her backward. Just before she turned, she caught sight of something lying beside the man—a disc case, shattered plastic, heavy sharpied words reading "Project Pandora." But there was no time to look closer. Dread compounded in her stomach, made her sick.

 _Whatever contaminated the lab must have killed him_. And here they were. Locked inside of the lab.

* * *

 _Well, they got their night in_ , Barry thought as he skidded to a halt outside the main doors to STAR. Even through the doors, he could see the flashing lights, could hear the alarms. Cisco hadn't been kidding when he said he'd upped the security—although it was unclear how much of this was simply recycled protocol from when STAR had been a fully-functional lab. The robotic voice that greeted Barry on the doorstep sounded antiquated.

" _This is STAR Labs security,_ " it blared. " _The lab is currently under emergency lockdown. No access should be attempted at this time. Please stand away from the door. Please stand away from the door. Please stand away from the door._ "

Barry ignored the warning and sidled forward. If there was a threat somewhere inside the facility, the _no access_ command didn't apply. What if someone had broken into the lab? Or worse, what if someone had broken out? Barry's gut twisted as he remembered how tough the fight had been against the snake meta—what had Cisco called him?—and pictured the meta loose in the lab.

Most likely, Caitlin and Iris had triggered the lockdown themselves in an attempt to keep the meta contained. A stupid, stupid self-sacrifice. And one that Barry completely understood.

 _"_ _Please stand away from the door._ "

"Make me," Barry growled, and he reached for the handle.

The door _did_ make him. Forcefully. With a zap of electricity so powerful it sent Barry flying backward ten feet.

He landed on the concrete with a groan, fingers stinging from the jolt and elbow throbbing from impact with the pavement. An electrified door. That, he thought darkly, had to have been Cisco's doing.

" _Please stand away from the door_."

"Alright already," he mumbled, picking himself up off of the ground in annoyance. Sirens heralded the arrival of the police, so he shot one more disapproving glance toward the door before ducking into one of the STAR vans that were always parked close to the building. In an instant he had changed back into the civvies they always kept handy. By the time he opened up the van door again and stepped out, Barry Allen once more, the two police cars had come to a stop in front of the building.

It was Joe, of all people, to emerge from the first police car. Barry didn't know why he was surprised—an alarm at STAR, especially when Iris was supposedly inside, was the flame to Joe's moth.

"Barry," he said, as Barry inconspicuously hopped out of the van. "What's going on?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Barry said. "We haven't been able to get a hold of Caitlin or Iris."

"They're both in there?" Joe said, frowning. "And you can't…you know?" He made a rapid motion with his finger that Barry assumed was supposed to invoke speed-running.

"Security system has rigged all of the locks," Barry said. "Stand away from the doors. Trust me." His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out. "Cisco," he said, holding up the flashing device. "I've got to take this. Cross your fingers that he has good news."

He clapped Joe on the shoulder, faux-reassuring. If he was being honest, he wasn't sure it helped.

* * *

Caitlin, ever-busy in the face of crisis, beelined toward the main computer bank in the cortex. Despite the circumstances, her head was clear, her steps purposeful, her heartbeat elevated but steady.

"What are you doing?" Iris asked.

"Accessing the security footage from the pipeline," said Caitlin. "It may give us some answers. There's a dead man in there. Whatever killed him could kill us, too."

"Good idea." Iris leaned against the chair that Caitlin was sitting in, peering over her shoulder at the screen. "And how are you going to do that? The power's out." As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she snapped her fingers. "Cisco's backup power generator."

"You read my mind," said Caitlin, with a smile that Iris couldn't see. "You know how to set it up?"

"Give me a second," Iris said. She ducked down beneath the desk while Caitlin fiddled with the wires on the computers themselves. Within seconds, the machines hummed to life. "Cisco's a good teacher."

"Maybe the best," Caitlin said. "Well, unless you're trying to learn about _Lord of the Rings_. His method of 'teaching' then is to sit you down in front of all three extended editions without comment."

"Is there any other way to watch them?" Iris said idly, reassuming her position at Caitlin's back. She leaned forward again over Caitlin's shoulder. "How long does this thing take to boot up?"

Caitlin frowned. "Not usually this long. It's…" Her mouth snapped closed. What she'd originally taken to be the normal start-up procedure was transforming into something else—a flashing of blue and black on screen, a flickering in the image. Bursts of static.

If she'd learned anything from years of being threatened virtually by criminals, it was that a flickering, staticky screen was a terrible omen. Instinctively, Caitlin braced herself for what was going to come next.

The scenarios flashed in quick progression. This person that had contaminated the lab would make threats or demands on-screen. He would broadcast his message across town, gloating about how he had effortlessly taken over STAR. He would use Caitlin and Iris to get to the Flash.

But it wasn't a nebulous, masked face that popped up on the computer after a minute of grainy feedback. It was Barry.

* * *

 **Sometimes I give positive cliffhangers. With the promise of good things to come.**

 **Thanks for reading! I look forward to hearing your thoughts (and feel free to chat about the Flash midseason premiere also, if you'd like).**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	3. Chapter 3

**Impending questionable science/technobabble/etc.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Barry, thank God," Iris breathed.

The sentiment was shared. Caitlin released a pent-up breath, her anxieties temporarily fleeing. Barry was trying to make contact with them. He knew they were in trouble. They were no longer alone.

The video flickered, disappeared. Caitlin lurched forward, tapped a few keys. "Barry?" she said. "Barry, we're losing you. Hold on."

"There's got to be a way to reach him," Iris said. "What if we—"

But the image sputtered again. Halted. Restored. Caitlin wasn't sure she could take much more, but this time, Barry's face remained on screen. The picture was shaky, the angle all wrong. It looked like he was outside and, if Caitlin wasn't mistaken, using his phone camera.

"Can you hear me now?" he said, a poor imitation of some old commercial that might have been funny in any other circumstance. "Cisco managed to manually rig up a video hookup to the STAR computers. He's holed up at my lab right now, trying to figure out a way to maintain a more permanent connection. What's going on in there?"

Caitlin glanced up at Iris, swallowing hard. "There seems to be some sort of toxic leak," she explained. "It's killed that meta from the other day. It's why the lab's locked down."

Barry frowned. "What kind of leak?"

"I'm not sure," Caitlin said hesitantly.

Iris chimed in then, leaning further down over Caitlin's shoulder to get in view of the camera, their faces level. "I think it has to do with something called Project Pandora." She turned her head toward Caitlin. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

A memory, more a shadow of a memory than anything, butted forward. Caitlin's heart stuttered. She shook her head.

"Don't worry," Barry said, perhaps sensing the fear, the confusion. "We'll get you out of there."

"You can't," Caitlin said. "If you break the seal on the door, the lab will automatically decontaminate itself." She felt Iris' gaze, hot and desperate.

"What do you mean?" the other woman asked.

Caitlin could not look at her, could only look at Barry, willing him to understand. "The entire lab will be irradiated, sterilized. The process will destroy any living tissue." A breath. "We'll be dead within seconds."

"What?" Caitlin could sense Iris gripping the chair harder. She closed her eyes.

A long, frustrated sigh came from Barry's end of the line. "So, what do we do?"

While Iris pulled away, apparently dazed, Caitlin knew that she had to stay focused. Collect her thoughts. Act.

"Okay," she said, slipping into the familiar spit-balling they usually did when confronted by a new challenge. "What we should do is find out what really happened. Hang on while I play back the pipeline security footage."

Iris paced back and forth behind her, even as she pulled up a series of video feeds on another monitor and sifted through them to find the pipeline. The feed still showed the scene they had just evacuated: the pipeline still and silent, the meta dead on the floor.

The dread was so intense that Caitlin could hardly breathe. Iris halted in her pacing. Caitlin rewound the tape.

It was the same location, the same angle. The hallway of the pipeline was quiet. At the end of it, still in his cell, was the meta they had captured the day before.

It was eerie, Caitlin thought, seeing this now. Watching the oblivious victim of a murder in the last moments of life. She didn't have much sympathy for the guy—he had wrecked an entire city block and probably given dozens of children nightmares—but that didn't mean he deserved to die.

She was so fascinated by the meta in his cell that she was surprised by Iris saying, "What is that?"

She squinted, looked toward the lower half of the screen, It still took a moment before she saw what Iris was seeing: a small, almost-indistinguishable dark object. Or, rather, collection of objects.

"Those are vials," Caitlin said.

"They're floating," Iris said. "All by themselves."

And, indeed, they were. As if propelled by an invisible force, the vials bobbed down the hallway of their own accord. If Caitlin hadn't seen it, and if she hadn't spent upwards of two years dealing with anomalies exactly like this, she might not have believed it.

Halfway down the hall, the vials paused. The lights flickered.

"Who's there?" called the meta in the cell.

The area was still. Then, with a beep, the control panel next to the vials flashed to life. A light blinked green. The door to the cell lifted and, after a moment of hesitation, the meta stepped out.

"Hello?" he said. "Is this some sort of game? Because I don't—"

Out of nowhere, a syringe appeared and rammed into the meta's neck. He gurgled, clutched at thin air. Then he dropped. The convulsions on the floor seemed to last a lifetime, but in reality, the poison worked quickly. He was motionless within seconds.

Caitlin and Iris did not speak, perhaps because there was nothing to say. The revelation was more effective than a slap to the face: the door of the pipeline cell had not been opened due to the lockdown. It had been opened manually, deliberately, with deadly intention. And the meta had not died by contamination. This was a murder.

Just as Caitlin opened her mouth to articulate these thoughts, a voice interrupted her, loud and slow over the security footage:

" _And I looked_ ," it said, " _and behold, a pale horse, and he who sat on it had the name death._ "

The video fluttered again and this time remained in blackness. The beginnings of the power outage, Caitlin suspected.

"This was intentional," Iris said. Caitlin nodded in confirmation.

"Cait, see if there's anything else in the footage," Barry said.

"This camera was blown out by some sort of electrical surge," Caitlin said. "But let me see what else I can do. Those vials probably came from one of the storage areas in the basement—close to the pipeline. I can do a trace and see what set off the alarm."

"Great."

Caitlin typed in a few commands, squinted at the lines of text on screen. She was generally slower at this kind of work than Cisco, plus her vision was uncharacteristically blurry, probably due to lack of sleep or lack of light or something equally inconvenient. Finally, though, she found what she was looking for.

"Okay, looks like the alarm was first triggered…" Her mouth pressed into a hard line. "Down in Wells' old laboratory."

"The morgue," Iris said.

"Only Cisco likes to call it the morgue," Caitlin said. "But…yes. The morgue." She keyed in a few more instructions, backtracked, corrected. "I'm pulling up the footage from that area of the building from the time the alarm was tripped. Just give me one second."

The video feed popped up on screen. It was Eobard's lab, darkened, desolate. None of them had really gone down there, especially not since Eobard's true identity was outed—not only was it eternally dingy, but it gave all of them the willies. It was clear enough that Eobard had been conducting his own business in that basement, and there was an instinctive sense that none of them wanted to know what that business had been.

"There," Iris said, pointing to a spot in the corner of the screen.

The room was empty, but a glass cabinet door opened. The vials that had been present in the other video feed drifted out, and the cabinet door shut once more.

"The vials were stolen from Eobard's lab," Iris said. "Do you know what he might have been working on that would've garnered this kind of interest?"

Caitlin swallowed and shook her head. "Just taking those wouldn't be enough to set off the alarms, though. It's—wait, look there."

Another object was produced out of thin air and placed on a table near the vents. It was impossible to tell what it was from this distance; it was a piece of tech, by the looks of it. As she watched, a green light burst to life on the device, and the floating vials rapidly retreated. The green light flashed methodically for half a minute before switching to red. The second that it did, a silvery gas erupted from the top of the device and filtered up into the air vents.

"We have our answer," Caitlin said. "That's how the lab was contaminated."

"The thief must have used some sort of stealth device," Iris said.

"Or he could be an invisible man," Barry added. "Invisible meta, I mean."

"It's possible this person can bend light rays around themselves," Caitlin said.

"Kind of like Dr. Light," Iris offered.

"Exactly like Dr. Light," Caitlin confirmed. "Except that the lights flickered whenever they passed. It could be that they've found a way to generate an electronic field to bend the light. It's the only way I can explain what we just saw, and why we're experiencing this power outage."

"So what was in the vials that they stole?" Iris asked.

Caitlin chewed on her lower lip. "I'm not sure.

"Maybe we should start by looking up Project Pandora," Iris said. She shifted into the chair beside Caitlin and took over the unused computer. She typed furiously, completely focused on the task at hand. She wasn't an investigative reporter for nothing—her background, plus the sporadic hacking lessons Cisco had eagerly provided her, made her fairly deadly on the research front. Within minutes, she'd gotten past dozens of security blocks and was scrolling through a long file in the STAR Labs administrative database.

"I found something," she said. "Project Pandora. _Client: government weapons research center_." Her face fell, the confusion deepening in her features. "What is this? _Objective: to develop nerve toxins_. Nerve toxins?"

Caitlin wanted to reach out, place a hand on her arm, direct her away, but Iris was in too deep already. She scrolled through the document further, her frown deepening with each new line.

" _Project Director: Dr. Emil Velinski. Project Coordinators: Dr. Harrison Wells, Dr…_ " She paused. " _Dr. Caitlin Snow_." She stopped, mouth agape, then stood from her chair violently and turned toward Caitlin. "My god. Weapons research? You were involved in _weapons research_?"

Caitlin was pierced by Iris' gaze, by Barry's. "I didn't—it was a long time ago," she said. "Not that it….it doesn't make it any better, I know. In the early days. Around the same time Eiling was fiddling around with our Grodd research, we were contracted to develop a nerve toxin. I…" She opened up her hands, begging them to understand. "I thought…these things never get used. They get put up on a shelf somewhere."

"Well, it's not on a shelf anymore, is it?" Iris snapped. "You didn't think—not once—that creating a deadly nerve toxin might be a bad idea?"

"I trusted Wells," Caitlin said. "And he needed me for my bioengineering experience. We were developing it together, but we stopped once we got wind of the scope of what it would be used for. It got out of our control, but we did our best to stop it. At least, I did. Clearly Wells—Eobard—kept more secrets than we knew."

Iris crossed her arms and puffed out a heated breath. Her anger was always the kind that simmered, threatened to burst. Caitlin broke eye contact, blood rushing to her cheeks.

Barry, surprisingly, was the intermediary. "How it got there isn't a concern right now," he said. "What do you know about the toxin itself?"

"This was years ago," Caitlin said. "And I dropped out of the project before it was fully completed. I don't know how accurate my memory would be."

"And I still can't access that part of the file," Iris added tersely.

"What about this Dr. Velinski?" Barry asked. "Maybe he could tell us something more. I can pay him a visit."

"He lives somewhere in the heights," Iris said, already pulling up a new screen. "Near Anne Square. I can forward you the address."

"I'll find him," Barry said with a nod. "The police are outside, and Cisco is going to start working on safely disarming the building. You hang on."

Caitlin attempted a smile. It felt sadder than she'd intended. "We'll be here."

Barry nodded, and the video feed cut off. With him gone, the cortex was cast into silence. Caitlin remained frozen in place, waiting for Iris to make the first move. When she didn't, Caitlin said, "Iris…"

"I need to get some water," the other woman said, stepping abruptly away from the desk. "Since apparently I can't get any air."

She disappeared into the medical bay without another word. Caitlin stayed statuesque, facing forward. She couldn't bear to watch her walk away.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! Please consider leaving a comment on your way out, and see you Wednesday!**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	4. Chapter 4

**I keep telling myself that small chapters means big content?**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Cisco?"

" _Left up here. Your other left, Barry. Okay, three blocks up, second floor, apartment fifteen_."

Cisco's voice in Barry's ear was a comforting, grounding force. It was one of the only things that was ever certain—instructions that Barry could trust, a guidance system on more than one level. With the entire world literally at Barry's fingertips, Cisco was a necessary reminder of where he was going, what his place was on the city streets.

He slowed down when he got to the apartment building, just enough to get through the door and up the confined staircase. He didn't bother knocking on apartment fifteen's door, just phased through it. There was hardly time for politeness now, and, besides, Caitlin wasn't around to scold him.

Dr. Emil Velinski's apartment was spotless, huge, and probably more expensive than Barry could ever afford, even with Wells' inheritance. Everything was white. White counters, white cabinets, a ten-foot white rug. It was rare that Barry felt self-conscious about the condition of his suit, considering there wasn't a lot of time for vanity when brawling with metahumans, but now Barry felt the inexplicable urge to remove his boots. Even though he couldn't see it, he felt like he was tracking 5000 miles worth of grime across the floors.

" _Anyone there_?" Cisco asked.

Barry shook off the irrational unease and made a circle of the apartment, checking the bedrooms, the bathrooms— _jeez, who had multiple bedrooms and bathrooms in a single apartment_?—and the living area. Once he had made his circuit, he touched the comm in his ear. "Nothing," he said. "Velinski isn't here."

" _He should be back from work right about now,_ " Cisco said, " _according to his business hours, which, yes, I found by doing a Google search_."

"High-tech," Barry said absently. "He could have stopped somewhere, or…"

"Help him, please! Someone call an ambulance!"

The scream from outside caught Barry's attention immediately. His head snapped up, and he clicked his comms again. "Cisco. Just a second."

He zipped out of there faster than he had come in, taking the stairs three at a time, skidding around a corner and out the door of the apartment complex. He slid to a halt outside on the pavement, searching wildly for the source of the disturbance. He found it; but he found it too late.

A few feet from a pop-up newspaper stand, a man stood twitching, clutching at his throat. Beside him lay a spilled bag of groceries, a discarded hat. A streetlight above him flickered and faded. He writhed, caught in death throes, both feet rising from the street. And, the instant that Barry registered all of this, he grew limp, and heavy, and he fell to the street.

With familiar terror singing through his bones, Barry bolted forward and knelt at the man's side. His eyes were glassy, empty. His arm lay flung out carelessly over the curb, his other hand still gripped close to his collar. Barry knew who the man was even before reading the name badge clipped to his shirt.

"Dr. Velinski," he muttered. Of course—he should have suspected that the doctor would be the next target.

"I don't believe it." Barry jumped at the arrival of another presence to his left, a woman who looked just as stricken as he felt. She was the one who had called for help, he was certain. "The Flash. You're too late."

As a precaution, Barry blurred his features. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

The woman looked curiously at him, then back down at the body. "He, uh. He had some kind of a seizure."

"No, he was murdered."

Barry's attention was drawn upward again. Previously, he hadn't even noticed the man sitting at the news stand. The owner, by the looks of it. Even though it was dark, he wore sunglasses, and a walking stick sat within arms' reach.

"You're crazy," said the woman beside Barry. "There wasn't nobody near him."

"I tell you, there was another guy here," said the blind man, who was equally as pale and shaken as the woman who had witnessed the crime. "I can even describe him."

Barry moved from the dead man's side to the news stand owner. "Go ahead."

The man's adam's apple bobbed. "Maybe six feet tall. Kind of wheezes when he breathes. And sweats. Like he was scared."

"And he's not here now?"

"No," said the man. "He ran."

"Thank you." Barry stood, dipped his chin at the woman still kneeling on the pavement. "Call the police. This man was murdered."

"But—"

"Just do it," Barry said. "I've got to run."

He was off before she could respond, streaking into the night with urgency nipping at his heels.

* * *

Iris hardly looked up when Caitlin entered. She was sitting on one of the hospital beds, fiddling with the rubix cube they kept in there for long bed rests. She didn't spend much time in here, given that she was hardly out in the field, but Barry and Cisco spent hours playing with the toy when they were holed up in recovery. Right now, however, Iris' mind was too far away to focus on actually solving it.

"Hey," said Caitlin, shuffling into the doorway of the med bay. "I…well, Barry and Cisco have called back. They have more details on the toxin."

"Okay. I'll be out in a second."

"Great." Caitlin hesitated in the doorway a moment longer, then turned to leave.

"Wait." Iris set down the rubix cube and rubbed at her eyes. She was finding it hard to focus on anything, and a headache was beginning to gather behind her eyelids. "Sorry for storming out on you like that."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Caitlin said. "I'm the one who worked on Project Pandora. I should have said something the moment you mentioned it."

"Old haunts," Iris said with a shrug. "I get it. STAR Labs used to be something completely different. You couldn't have known everything that was going on behind the scenes, or the extent to which Wells might have been manipulating you."

There was another moment of quiet, an uncertainty. "I'm sensing a 'but.'"

"No 'but,'" Iris said. No matter how hard she rubbed at her eyes, she could not clear her vision. "It's just hard. I think back to the early days, when…well, none of us trusted STAR Labs, and Harrison Wells even less. Even when he took over Barry's treatment, I didn't trust him. But once Barry was the Flash, and defending the man, I obviously trusted my best friend's judgment. Although the evidence was stacking up against Harrison Wells, I stood by him because that meant standing by the people I was close to."

Caitlin nodded wordlessly. The other woman perhaps remembered best that nebulous time when Harrison Wells was neither good nor evil, but simply a question mark.

"And then it turned out he was evil," Iris said. "The whole time, my gut feelings about STAR Labs were right. And now here you are—Caitlin, my friend, Caitlin—and I'm just finding out about what you did as part of that system. An active part of that system."

"I know," Caitlin said. "And I'm so sorry. I understand that you want space. You don't want to talk to me."

"The thing is," Iris said, "I know you, Caitlin. I didn't know Harrison Wells, and I didn't know STAR Labs, but I know you. What's in the past is done. You'll run yourself to the ground trying to save my life. You have a good heart, and I _know_ that, beyond all of your mistakes."

"I _knew_ Harrison Wells, too," Caitlin said quietly, coldly.

"Listen to me," Iris said, sliding off the bed and taking Caitlin by the shoulders. "You are _not_ Harrison Wells. You were manipulated by him. That doesn't make you like him. You—you have done nothing but give. And now? We're going to get through this. Together. Okay? We can talk about the past later. Right now we need to keep each other alive."

Caitlin's eyes, so often darting away from Iris', stayed constant. They suddenly looked young. Uncertain.

"I'll do my best," she said.

"As will I." Iris squeezed her arm. "Now, come on. You said that Barry and Cisco were waiting?"

"Right, yes." Caitlin sniffed, composed herself, led Iris out of the med bay. "Cisco's been doing some research."

"No offense at all to your hacking skills, Iris," called Cisco from the computer once they were back in earshot. "There were some pretty serious security blocks put in place by our old friend Mr. McShady."

He and Barry shared the screen now, both crammed into what Caitlin could only assume was one of the STAR Labs vans. Barry was still in his Flash suit, cowl down, looking frazzled at the sight of the two of them.

"I found out some more information about Project Pandora," Cisco continued. "Two of those vials were an experimental deadly toxin. The third was the only existing vial of antitoxin."

"There's more bad news," Barry said. "Somebody got to Dr. Velinski first. He's already dead. It looks like the thief wants to make sure there's nobody around to make more antitoxin. That's probably why he targeted STAR Labs in the first place." He ran a hand through his hair. "Would anyone else have the formula?"

"I'm not sure yet," Caitlin said. "But I do know one thing. If these readouts are correct…based on some of my tests, I think one of those vials could kill everyone in Central City."

Iris gripped the edge of the table, a chill wracking her.

There was white noise on the other end of the line. Then Cisco asked, "What about you?"

Caitlin took a deep breath. "According to the computer…we have less than four hours to live."

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! I live for feedback!**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks so much for all of your wonderful comments! It's fun hearing reactions from both those of you who have seen the original episode and those who haven't. As you can tell, we've already begun to deviate (although mostly in order to give the ladies and Cisco more screen time, to be honest).**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 _Four hours._ The words still hung heavy on Cisco's shoulders. His brain was made of cotton, his mouth dry.

None of this should've happened. Caitlin and Iris should have been out of the lab hours ago, with Cisco and Barry at the stupid horseraces. Maybe if Cisco had been there, he could've convinced them to leave. Or maybe if he'd offered more help to Caitlin during the week, she could've been done with her project. Maybe if he wouldn't have been so selfish, picked an activity that everyone would've enjoyed, suggested a quiet night at his place, everyone would've been out of the lab and safe and happy and not about to die in _four hours_ —

He swallowed down bile and willed himself to grow a spine. He couldn't do this, not now. Self-blame wouldn't open up the STAR Labs door or create an antitoxin. Only his brain could do that.

Still, though—how could he have missed this old STAR protocol when he'd updated security? The protocol that trapped his friends inside, threatened to irradiate them if that seal was broken? He knew the answer, of course: it was for the safety of the general public. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. Or the two. But still.

As if sensing the prickles beneath Cisco's skin, Barry reached out and put a hand briefly on his shoulder. Ironic, Cisco thought. The volatile speedster acting as a grounding force.

"Barry, Cisco." Joe motioned to them from behind the crime scene tape at the front doors of the lab. He was standing with a man in a beige trench coat who looked as though he'd just smelled something vile. The man's mouth was set in a permanent frown, making him look far older than he probably was.

Cisco and Barry ducked beneath the crime scene tape and joined Joe, who appeared even more agitated than the last time they'd seen him.

"Hey," Joe said, nodding at the both of them. "This is Quinn. He's a government agent. He's here to help." He sniffed loudly, cleared his throat. "Quinn, Barry Allen from our crime lab, Cisco Ramon, CCPD's scientific liaison."

"There are two women trapped in the lab," Barry jumped in immediately, brushing straight over the alarming fact that _wait, slow down, this guy is a government agent, isn't that super shady_? "They've been exposed—"

"I'm aware of your situation, Allen," said Quinn. "I've been informed that you have managed to contact the women inside of the lab. Detective West has filled me in on everything." He looked up, waved a hand dismissively at a group of people outside of the crime tape, never meeting Barry or Cisco's anxious gazes. "Keep the media outside the perimeter."

"Well since you apparently know everything," Cisco pressed on, the man's detachment instantly sparking a flare of anger in his chest, "you obviously know it's important that we find those vials."

"I've got 100 federal agents combing the city right now," Quinn drawled.

"They don't have a chance in hell," Cisco said. Joe shot him a look. "They don't have a chance in hell, _sir._ "

"The thief has the ability to turn invisible," Barry supplemented.

Quinn again waved a hand. "It's an optical illusion at best. A trick. Or a glitch in the security cameras."

"Sir, I don't think so," Barry said. "If you haven't noticed, this city is filled with metahumans."

Quinn shook his head, looking just short enough of an eyeroll that Cisco bristled. "Relax," the agent said. "We'll have the vials back within twenty-four hours."

"Twenty-four hours?" Barry said incredulously. "They'll both be dead by then. You know that."

"I've got a medical team standing by," Quinn placated. "If necessary, we'll blow that door off its hinges and get them out."

Cisco's jaw dropped. "No, you'll trigger the sterilization system and kill them both!"

Finally Quinn met Cisco's gaze, far more piercing than Cisco might have expected. Although he held his ground, determined to keep his face hardened, the look startled him more than he would like to admit.

"That's why I'm employing you, Mr. Ramon," he said. "Detective West personally recommended you. He's told me all about your particular skills. You're going to work for me now. I have some of the most high-tech equipment in the world. You're going to work on overriding that sterilization protocol."

Cisco opened his mouth to respond, looked to Joe in confusion, but Joe just gave him a little shake of the head.

"What about me?" Barry asked. "I can…I can help."

"Listen, Barry," Joe said, putting a steadying hand on his arm. "I know it's Iris and Caitlin. I _know_. But you can't do anything right now. Maybe you'd better head home and let Quinn handle it."

The twinkle of his eyes, the underlying message, was hopefully too subtle for Quinn to catch. _Head home. Send the Flash back._

If Barry caught the message, he did a great job of hiding it. He crossed his arms, face falling. "But…"

"This incident is now under federal jurisdiction," Quinn said lazily. "Take a walk." But it was him that walked away, back toward his agents, with one last appraising look at the both of them.

Once he was out of earshot, Barry lifted his eyebrows. "Government agents?"

Joe shrugged helplessly. "It's out of our hands now," he said. "The Mayor got a call from Washington. Like it or not—and I sure as hell don't like it—it's Quinn's show for now. That's why I convinced him to put you on the case, Cisco. At least that way we have someone on the inside. To make sure he doesn't go completely off the rails."

"Not a lot I can do to stop him," Cisco muttered. "You heard him, he's more than willing to sacrifice Caitlin and Iris."

"So you have to override the security system before he has a chance," Joe said, putting up a finger. "Or find a way to decontaminate that lab in a safer way. Barry, you need to find the thief and those vials. The Flash can do far more than those agents right now."

Barry still looked agitated, but he nodded.

"Ramon," barked Quinn. "Are you going to get to work, or what?"

Cisco unleashed an irritated exhale. "I guess that's my cue. Duty calls."

It was going to be a long ride, he decided.

But, with four hours remaining, perhaps not long enough.

* * *

This time, Caitlin led the charge down to the pipeline. Except for the obvious, there was nothing to be afraid of in STAR Labs anymore—the thief had wisely escaped before the toxin was released, and the only other person in the building was dead. They no longer needed weapons. They needed ingenuity, and quick-thinking. Caitlin's assessment of four hours had a margin of error, and they were already losing time.

Back in the pipeline, Caitlin had no reason or time to be put-off by the dead body. She'd seen dead bodies before. She had a purpose, and she would not let that be clouded by disgust or sorrow.

"What are you doing now?" Iris asked, as Caitlin sank to her knees beside the meta.

"We know now that this meta wasn't killed by the airborne toxin as we originally guessed," Caitlin said, pulling on her gloves and gingerly pushing the meta to the side. "It's—yes, here. We completely missed the syringe when we were first down here. He landed on top of it." She picked up the syringe that they had observed in the security footage and bagged it. "I need to analyze the toxin to find out what makes it tick."

She struggled to rise from her kneeling position, using the wall for support. Troubling, the muscle fatigue in her legs. The tingling in her fingertips.

"Come on," she said. "I've got to analyze this upstairs. Can you try to get fingerprints off of the door control panel? It's worth looking into."

"Mhmm." Caitlin looked over at Iris just in time to see her pitch forward. She caught her around the middle, helping her back to a standing position. Sweat speckled her forehead. "Sorry. I don't feel so good."

"Neither do I," Caitlin said. "It's been getting worse. It must be the toxin."

Iris pressed back against the wall to steady herself, closing her eyes, breathing deeply as if to stave off nausea. Caitlin just watched, her vision blurry. After a few moments, Iris gulped in enough air to steady herself and opened her eyes. "Are we…" She hugged her middle tighter, her eyes stark with terror for the first time, perhaps more fearful than Caitlin had ever seen them. "Are we going to die here?"

Despite the weakness overtaking her, Caitlin reached for Iris to offer support. She clutched the bag with the syringe in one hand, gripped Iris' trembling arm with the other, and looked the other woman dead in the eye with as much promise as she could muster. "Not if I can help it."

* * *

"I have to find that thief," Barry said, pacing back and forth in his lab just slow enough that he didn't paint scorch marks into the floor. "Or somebody else connected with the project who can make up the antitoxin. I don't know how much longer Caitlin will be able to think straight."

" _I know, man_ ," Cisco said through the speaker of Barry's phone, which sat discarded on a table. " _But I can't be working on both things at once. Right now I'm more focused on making sure they don't die immediately when Quinn decides he wants to open up the doors._ "

"Can't you get me in contact with them again?" Barry said. "Iris can find out that information, I'm sure of it. Why don't we hook up through the police communications network?"

" _Quinn's got it locked down,_ " Cisco said. " _First thing he did was tap into the STAR computer video feed. He'll know every move we make._ "

Barry paused. Although there was nobody in the room with him, he cocked his head. "Not if you jam his signal. You can spare a few minutes for that, can't you?"

There was a great rustling of papers on Cisco's end. " _Let me see what I can do. He'll know he's being jammed, but I can probably buy you a few minutes_."

"A few minutes is all we need," Barry said.

* * *

Caitlin buried her fingers in her hair. If she thought her patience was wearing thin because of the toxin's time restraints, this government man—Quinn, he called himself—was even more grating than the poison in her lungs.

"Mr. Allen is no longer involved in this operation," he was saying on screen, his wide forehead shining grotesquely. "I'm in charge."

"I'll say it one more time," Caitlin said through gritted teeth. "I want to speak with _Barry Allen_."

"I'm afraid that's impossible." He stared her down, his eyes dead, dispassionate. "I suggest you turn over any data you have immediately.

 _Unbelievable_ , Caitlin thought, struggling to maintain her composure as the frustration mounted. It would do her no good to curse out a federal agent, not when there was so little time to lose and such dire consequences if she refused to cooperate. Still, this man gave her a twist in the gut that had nothing to do with the toxin, and she would be damned if she gave up any information to people who had forcibly removed Barry from the situation. If she couldn't communicate with the Flash himself—

Another biting comment was on the tip of her tongue when Quinn's face disappeared and was replaced by static. Her temporary relief at being cut loose from the uncooperative agent was fast replaced by panic. Had they lost communications completely?

 _No,_ she told herself. _You still have power in the computers._

Her confusion was short-lived. After a moment or two of the static, Barry's face popped up on screen, looking anxious. Caitlin sagged.

"Barry, thank God."

"Cisco found a way to hook us up," Barry explained, "but I don't think we have a lot of time."

"I'm trying to analyze the toxin now," Caitlin said, glancing over at one of the other computer monitors, where formulas and tests were scrolling endlessly. The constant movement and the bright light of the computer screen made her nauseous, so she closed her eyes. Her eyelids felt like they were coated in glue.

Barry must have noticed, because his voice softened. "How are you feeling?"

With a great deal of effort, Caitlin opened her eyes. "Iris is feeling pretty sick," she said, looking over at Iris, who was occupying the third computer chair and leaning heavily against the desk as she scrolled through results. "I'm…I'm not feeling too good myself."

It was an understatement if she ever made one. An hour closer to their predicted demise, and she felt as though she was on the verge of collapse. What had once felt like a mild case of the flu now made it difficult for her to keep her head lifted or her mind straight.

"Cait," Barry said gently, though his worry bled through the soft tone. He was never very good at hiding his emotion. "You've got to rest, okay? Conserve your strength."

Caitlin brushed past this, tried to clear her throat but failed. "Iris has managed to get another name out of the computer. Velinski's assistant. Dr. Taylor Cartwright. 1624 Sherwood Park."

"That'll be the killer's next victim." Barry nodded, understanding. "I'm on my way."

He clicked off, and Caitlin finally allowed herself a long, pained sigh and a droop of the head.

* * *

 **Thanks as always for reading! The comment box is, as ever, open below.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	6. Chapter 6

**I love that my whole premise in this fic was that Barry couldn't phase another person through things, and then last night he goes and phases an entire train through a cement block. C'est la vie.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Cisco was waiting in Barry's lab when the speedster returned, carting a frazzled-looking man in tow who could only be Dr. Taylor Cartwright. For a sophisticated scientist who had worked on a project as secretive as Project Pandora, he appeared troublingly out of sorts. At their entrance, Cisco looked up from his laptop, where he was beginning to work on rewiring the STAR protocols.

"Cisco," Barry said. "What are you…"

"I tried calling you," Cisco said. "You didn't bring your phone with you."

"Is everything okay?"

"Aside from the fact that we are running out of time, and that Quinn is probably on to us, then yeah," Cisco said sardonically. "You sure took your time. I thought you said you were going to… _run_ over there."

The innuendo was not lost on Barry. The speedster raised his eyebrows pointedly. "I did run there. I don't think Dr. Cartwright would appreciate running back. Sorry. Dr. Cartwright, Cisco Ramon."

Cartwright, who looked thoroughly confused by the exchange, merely frowned.

"Listen," Barry continued, unfazed. "That toxin that I was describing, from Project Pandora—you've got to reconstruct the antitoxin."

Cartwright straightened his glasses, perhaps self-consciously. They immediately fell crooked again on his nose. "Well, I might be able to manage—but reconstructing the antitoxin without my notes or without a sample of the toxin itself could take days."

"We don't have days, Dr. Cartwright," Cisco said bluntly. "We have hours."

Barry's long legs carried him across the room in seconds. "How are they doing?"

Cisco shook his head and turned back to Barry's computer, which was still hooked up to the STAR Labs video feed. He'd kept it on continuously since he'd arrived, even if he and Caitlin were both too busy in their research to talk. It was nice to have the usual presence, the usual company, even if it was tainted through a computer monitor. At Barry's arrival, though, Caitlin perked up—if her sluggish movements could even be called perking up.

"Not too good," Cisco said needlessly.

He vacated his chair, moving his own laptop to a different table to continue working. Barry eased down into his place.

"I found Dr. Cartwright, okay?" he told Caitlin, as Cartwright hovered over his shoulder. "He's going to try to reconstruct the antitoxin."

"Barry's been telling me you've been analyzing the toxin there," said Cartwright. "Your information could help."

"Yes, of course," Caitlin said. "But first…Barry, I think Iris would like a word with you."

Cisco glanced up from his work curiously. Barry looked dumbstruck, but he nodded. Exasperated, Cartwright vacated his spot within view of the camera and joined Cisco near the window. Cisco kept his eyes down on his laptop, but, despite the apparent privacy of Iris' conversation, he could hear every word.

"We're running out of time, Barry," Iris said through the monitor. "You've got to stop worrying about us and try to find the other vial of toxin. If it's opened, a lot of people are going to die."

"You are my first priority," Barry insisted.

"Listen to me," Iris said. Even from a distance, and through a computer speaker, Cisco detected the utter exhaustion in her voice. "Caitlin is running herself to the ground working on an antidote, and I'm afraid I'm not going to be very useful for much longer. We're just two people. There's a whole city out there that needs you." A pause as she collected herself. "If anything should happen to us, I just want you to—to take care of yourself."

The words, and the implications of those words, sent a thrill of fear down Cisco's spine. In the background of the video feed, he could hear Caitlin coughing. His breathing quickened.

"Nothing is going to happen to you, alright?" Barry said. "Now, I'm going to find those vials in time. I promise."

There was a bang as the doors to the lab opened. Cisco started violently, hands instantly going up into a defensive stance, but it was just Quinn, plus two of his agents.

"Alright, Allen. Where is it?"

Barry stood from his chair. "What's going on?"

"This way, here," Quinn said. He motioned at the laptop, where Iris and Caitlin were now both crowding confusedly in the screen. "This is what he's been jamming us with. Shut it down."

"Hey, wait a minute, man," Cisco said, stepping forward as the agents plowed forward into the lab.

"Barry, what's going on?" came Caitlin's voice, distant now.

"You," Quinn said, ignoring the video feed and jamming a finger Cisco's way. "I'll deal with you later. I don't know what your part was in this, but we will be having words later, you bet your ass." He then shifted his attention to Cartwright. "Dr. Cartwright, if you'll come with us."

At this, Barry placed himself between Quinn and Cisco and Cartwright. "He's trying to reconstruct the antitoxin!"

Quinn sneered at Barry. "He can do it just as well under our jurisdiction."

"There isn't _time_ ," Barry said viciously. When Quinn tried to shoulder around him toward Cartwright, Barry grabbed him by the lapels, forcing the agent to look him in the eye. "There are two people trapped inside that lab, and without the antitoxin, they are going to die!"

The reaction from Quinn's agents was immediate. Seconds after Barry took Quinn's coat in his fists, they had him by each arm, dragging him backwards. Barry was red in the face, painted with an all-too-familiar mix of anger and desperation, as the agents hauled him away.

"Edwards, cuff this man," Quinn said unflappably, his expression an impossible combination of disinterested and sickly amused.

Cisco stepped forward again. "You can't do that!"

"Can't I?" Quinn said, fixing that poisonous look on Cisco. "You two are interfering in a priority government operation. You, Mr. Ramon, are treading on thin ice yourself. So unless you'd like bracelets of your own, I suggest you shut your mouth."

Cisco was at a loss as he watched one of the agents wrench Barry's arms backward and fasten metal cuffs to his wrists. Barry, still fuming, was shaking his head, as if he were sharing the exact same thought stream as Cisco: _This isn't right. None of this is right._

When the cuffs clicked in place, Cisco couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "Look, bro—"

"Don't." Barry's command was firm, bitter. He looked over his shoulder as the agent marched him out the door, and his eyes said everything. _Don't do anything stupid._

"Barry!" Iris was calling from the computer screen. "Cisco! What's happening?"

But they were cut off as Quinn's other lackey slammed the laptop closed and tucked it under his arm. They were gone in a flurry, all of them—Barry, Caitlin, Iris, Quinn, and Cartwright—and when they were gone there was nothing but an empty lab and the quiet ticking of the tiny wall clock.

* * *

The metal cuffs dug into Barry's wrists as he was marched unceremoniously out the front doors of the precinct. He was too furious to keep his head down, even though he felt the stares of his colleagues all the way through the main hall.

He didn't make speak to any of them, to anyone, until he heard Joe's voice somewhere to his left.

"Barry? What's going on?"

Quinn and his agents just shouldered forth, through the main doors of the police station and toward the large van they had arrived in. Barry was helpless to resist, caught up in the flow like a leaf in a river.

Helpless to resist as Barry Allen, anyway. And, if his gut feeling was anything to go by, Quinn was the last person he wanted to reveal his secret identity to.

"Where are you taking him?" Joe asked, more panicked now, jogging alongside the group. He was worn more thin than the last time Barry had seen him, his face shiny with sweat, his jacket discarded. "What the hell's going on? Barry!"

"It's okay, Joe," Barry mumbled, but he wasn't sure Joe heard him over the rumble of a car engine starting. Quinn and Cartwright entered the back of the van first, followed by Barry and the agent that guided him forward. Barry was pushed down into a jumpseat. The car door slammed, directly in Joe's face.

"Take a seat," Quinn said to Cartwright, who did so immediately in another jumpseat. Quinn remained standing, grabbing a handle on the ceiling to steady himself when the van lurched forward.

"Where are we going?" Barry asked dully. His fingers grazed the cold metal of the van at his back.

"STAR Labs," Quinn said. "Don't worry, I'll have a special place for you when this is all done. Right now, I just need to keep a good eye on your whereabouts, Mr. Allen. I knew you would be a thorn in my side the minute I met you." He swung back toward Cartwright. "Now, Dr. Cartwright, someone involved with Project Pandora is trying to sabotage it. You'd better tell me what you know."

"I don't know anything," said Cartwright, shoving up his wire-rimmed glasses with shaky hands.

Quinn's boot thunked on the floor of the van. He dipped down to eye level with Cartwright. "I don't believe you."

"In…instead of wasting my time with these ridiculous accusations," Cartwright mustered, unable to meet Quinn's gaze, "you should let me work on the antidote…before it's too late."

"You give me your information about Project Pandora or you give me nothing at all," Quinn drawled. "I don't have time for your excuses."

"But he doesn't know anything," Barry said, but he was shortly silenced by a threatening look from the agent guarding him.

"You're going to let them die," Cartwright said. His voice sounded on the verge of cracking. "Those two people in the building. You're going to let them die because you're too stubborn to let me work."

"Call it incentive," Quinn said. "Give it a good hard think, Cartwright, and let me know when you've decided to fill me in."

He strode to the front of the van, and it was clear that the conversation was over. It was clear that _all_ conversation was over—Barry wasn't sure what government policy was on getting physical with those in custody, but the look he was getting from the agent told him that he would receive a nice hard smack if he attempted to converse with Cartwright. He tightened his features and kept his lips sealed, fuming.

It was a long, quiet ride back to STAR, and Barry felt every second of it. Every second without Iris and Caitlin in communication was another second that they might be dead in the lab. The knowledge was an itch in Barry's fingertips, the overwhelming need to phase through the handcuffs and the van and take off—to where, though? Where could he run to solve any of this?

Eventually they came to a stop. The van door opened, and agents escorted Barry and Cartwright out into the night air. As predicted, STAR Labs was just as they'd left it: impenetrable, hopeless.

As Cartwright was taken away, the remaining agent, the one with the you-don't-mess-with-me face, lined Barry up against the side of the van like a disobedient child at recess.

"You know I'm a cop, right?" Barry said. "Is it really necessary, these handcuffs? I mean, why don't you just take them off, and we'll go have—"

Just then, Quinn stepped out of the van, hands buried deep in his pockets. He strode off in Cartwright's direction, and Barry angled toward him, ready to give chase.

"Hey! Where are you taking him? Quinn!" Pain erupted in his shoulder as the agent shoved him back, hard, against the van. Pinned there, Barry still craned his neck desperately. "Quinn, listen. You know those vials? You don't have to look for them, alright? The thief is going to bring them to you."

This made Quinn pause. While he didn't turn completely to face Barry, his head did swivel languidly. "What?"

"He killed Velinski," Barry continued. "He's gonna try to kill Cartwright, too."

"If he does, I'll catch him," Quinn said.

"Aren't you paying attention?" Barry shouted. "He's invisible!"

"Better yet," Quinn said. "I'll have the man, and I'll have his blood. I'm sure we can use it to our advantage. Invisibility serums, stealth devices. I'll be a big man in Washington."

The statement made Barry's blood run cold. It was a familiar sentiment, Quinn's aspirations, and none of it sat right. Barry couldn't muster up any kind of retort, nor could he find it in himself to beg. Numb, he watched Quinn stalk away toward STAR.

He couldn't do much with the agent guarding him, that much was certain. Even if Joe had pursued them, Barry didn't think he would have much sway either. Joe, always imbued with such power in Barry's childhood imagination, suddenly had very little of it.

Barry released his anxiety by shifting his weight from foot to foot, scanning the groupings of officers and government agents, peering up at the high windows of STAR, where he could just see the faint pulses of red warning lights from inside the building. He thought of Iris and Caitlin in there, bombarded by those lights, perhaps half-dead already.

 _If anything should happen to us…I want you to take care of yourself_.

All at once, there was a shout from somewhere behind Barry, a crash. The agent guarding Barry looked up curiously, peered around the van, sprang into action.

"We need backup over here!"

Like it or not, Barry's window of opportunity had arrived. The instant the agent's back turned, Barry began vibrating his hands. It didn't take much to phase through the cuffs, another advantage of Quinn's oversight regarding metas. He was off and running before the cuffs touched the ground. He wrenched on his Flash suit, still stashed in the lonely STAR Labs van nearby, then rushed for the scene of the commotion.

It was the crunch of windshield glass that alerted him. Inside one of the police cruisers, a foot kicked out blindly and connected with the windshield, and cracks spider-webbed outward. Barry skidded to a halt just in time to see the glint of a knife inside the car, raised by an invisible hand, plunge downward.

The side door of the cruiser burst out, and the once-thrashing body of Cartwright tumbled out. He hung there half-in and half-out of the cruiser, the bloody knife-wound spreading crimson across his chest.

Barry zipped forward, passing the agent who had been guarding Cartwright, unconscious on the ground. The perpetrator was, of course, nowhere to be found.

To Barry's surprise, Cartwright coughed when Barry approached, blood bubbling to his lips. Barry kneeled in front of him, pulling him gingerly the rest of the way from the car like a limp doll.

"Cartwright," he said. "It's okay. I can get you to a hospital."

"Recognize…voice," Cartwright said. Barry's heart skipped in panic before realizing that Cartwright was not looking at him. "He…spoke to me. I recognized…his voice."

"Who was it?" Barry said, hesitant to move the man until he'd said his piece. "Who did this to you?"

Cartwright coughed again, blinking furiously. His glasses had fallen to the ground, just broken glass and twisted metal. "Gideon," he said finally. "STAR Labs." He wheezed, fingers grasping weakly at his chest.

"Okay, okay, save your strength," Barry said. "Hold on, I'm going to take you to—"

But he was silenced by an arm wrapping around his throat, jerking backward, cutting off his air supply. He floundered for breath, taken off guard by the attack, clawing at his throat. He looked down, but there was nothing there to grab hold of. His nails scraped at what felt like a leather jacket, but in his eyes, it was empty space.

When black spots started appearing in his vision, his survival instincts at last kicked in with desperation. He thrashed, elbowed backward, vibrated. A spark of lightning zinged over his hand, and he bucked at superspeed.

It was enough to throw the invisible man off of his shoulders. Breath came back through Barry's crushed windpipe in stutters, wheezes, and he doubled over. Behind him, glass shattered. When Barry whirled around, he saw the windshield of the police cruiser completely destroyed, and, lying amid the destruction, a man in a leather jacket with blood on his hands.

"That's the guy!" shouted the agent who had been guarding Barry, still only three feet from the large van. "He was invisible!"

"He's real!"

"Stop him!"

That was Quinn, charging forward, gun drawn. In the blink of an eye, the man on the hood of the car—Gideon—vanished. Barry spun, but there was nothing to look for. Quinn advanced, and Barry did the only thing he could do. He ran.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading, and thanks preemptively for any thoughts below :)**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	7. Chapter 7

**I thought I could get away with keeping the name "Gideon" from the old show, but apparently not! There is really no secret relation to the AI that we know and love...just a coincidence.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Cisco fumbled with the phone against his ear, hands freezing in the cold night air. He'd neglected to bring a jacket, a hat, gloves. The pressure of the ticking clock was enough to make him forget what he might have usually considered necessities.

"Yes, I hear you, Barry. Yes, I'm groveling. Yes, I will try to cover your ass. You'd better not show your face here again before this is all cleared up, though. Quinn's not going to trust me as far as he can throw me now that he knows we were maybe kind of working together. Yes, I'll be careful. I'm telling _you_ to be careful. Okay. Bye."

He hung up just as he reached the doors of the large control van Quinn had set up at the perimeter of STAR. Off to the left, a swarm of officers were still collected around one of the police cruisers where, as Barry had told it, Cartwright had been stabbed to death by their invisible foe. Gideon.

He couldn't afford to look at that now. Barry was on the case, he told himself. He was dealing with the super criminal. Cisco just had to deal with the government agent with a lazy eye.

The more he tried to convince himself that it wasn't terrifying, the more he failed miserably.

"I'm working for Quinn," he told the two agents guarding the doors of the van. "I have information about the STAR security system. He'll want to hear. Cisco Ramon. Tell him Cisco Ramon is here."

Both agents were far taller than Cisco. Was that a requirement of secret government agents? Like basketball? You had to be yay-high in order to loom above potential threats?

One of them, a woman with a mole just below her bottom lip, regarded Cisco with disdain, but spoke quietly into her walkie talkie all the same. Chatter came buzzing through in response, and she reluctantly pushed open the door.

"Thanks," Cisco said sarcastically. He hugged his laptop close to his chest as he stepped up into the van, shivering when the door slammed behind him.

"Ramon," Quinn said, who didn't even look up at Cisco's entrance. He was at the front end of the van, fiddling with something small and metallic. "I thought I made it clear that you weren't to look further into this case."

"You did make it clear but see, _sir_ , those are my friends in the lab," Cisco said bluntly. "I was going to keep looking no matter what you said."

"You can't look if you're arrested. Ask your friend Mr. Allen." Quinn gave him a sidelong glance. "But, of course, you wouldn't know where he is, because, of course, you had nothing to do with his mysterious disappearance from my custody."

"It sure sounds like you're hinting at something, but I can't for the life of me think of what it is," Cisco deadpanned. "Do you want my results or not?"

"Why would I want your results?"

"You originally hired me because I'm the best there is," Cisco said. "You want my results because you're supposedly the best at what you do, and you want to pursue this investigation to the best of your ability."

He was pushing his luck, he knew. He was on the defensive here; snark was the last thing he should be employing. Then again, somehow, the defensive was the one place where snark came out in full force.

Still, despite all of that, Quinn crossed his arms and finally turned to look him in the eye. A dispassionate, disinterested look in the eye, but still a look in the eye. "Go ahead. Impress me."

"I'm not trying to impress you," Cisco said. _And this is where the bad news kicks in_. "I've been doing my best to get through the automatic sterilization procedures, but they're in place for a reason. I can't think of a way to safely cut those procedures and unlock the doors without risking exposure to everyone in a five mile radius…"

"We've got a team digging through Cartwright's research to find an antidote." Quinn waved a hand.

"You're not listening to what I'm saying," Cisco said irritably. "I still haven't been able to bypass the lab sterilization circuits."

"I heard you the first time, Ramon," said Quinn. "If things get tight, we'll have to force those doors anyway."

"If we don't neutralize the failsafe, those women in there are going to be killed."

"And if we do nothing at all in the next hour and half, they'll be just as dead," Quinn said. "If you could offer our scientists information about Project Pandora that Cartwright was so reluctant to give, we could make some actual progress."

"If you'd just let your scientists come up with some…some aerosol-based antitoxin…we could pump it into STAR Labs, sterilize the lab without killing Iris and Caitlin…"

"We've got bigger fish to fry now," said Quinn.

This gave Cisco pause. "Bigger fish to fry than saving two innocent lives?"

"Bigger fish, bigger reward. Not just for us. For the good of our country," Quinn said, shaking the metal object he'd been fiddling with. "I recognized that man. Gideon—he's an invisible metahuman. His blood is a goldmine. Do you know what that kind of power could do for us in Washington? For our spies, our surveillance? Think of the _possibilities_ —"

"Of what?" Cisco said, suddenly struck by the urge to take a step back. "Of doing experiments on a human being?"

"We only need his blood…" Quinn mumbled. "Some tests, yes, just to see the properties of his powers…nothing he wouldn't willingly submit to for the good of his government."

"This guy is a murderer. Something tells me he doesn't have much respect for the government."

"All the better, then."

There it was, the full-fledged horror that had been lingering just under Cisco's crawling skin.

"That is not a path you want to go down with me," he warned. "Believe me, I know—trying to scientifically replicate metahuman powers never goes well. For anyone. You're starting to sound a lot like another government guy I once knew, and trust me, it's not flattering picture."

"Oh, really?" In a burst of emotion unlike anything Cisco had seen of the man, Quinn flung the object in his hands at Cisco. Cisco reacted violently, stumbling backward, but managed to catch the object in one hand.

It was a dogtag necklace, old and rough and worn. One edge was tarnished, like it had been rubbed over and over by a nervous thumb. Cisco turned over the tags, squinted at the name imprinted there.

 _Eiling. Wade R._

Cisco dropped the tags like he had been burned. The metal stung his palms, and it made a cold cracking sound when it hit the floor of the van.

"Where did you get these?" he said in a low voice. "How do you know Eiling?"

"A close personal friend of mine," Quinn explained. "Funny, isn't it, we both ended up working for the government. Him in fatigues, me in a suit." He huffed. "That is, until he was discharged from his post. Drove him mad, you realize? He lived for his work. All the years I knew him, it was the only thing keeping him alive."

"He was discharged because he was making other people's lives hell," Cisco said coldly. "He was discharged because he stretched ethics like it was a rubber band."

"He never stopped talking about the metahumans, once they started popping up around the country," Quinn continued without taking a beat. "I didn't believe him. I didn't believe his crackpot theories about people with powers, but I should've. He was ahead of his time. He knew their usefulness."

"So you're some sort of Eiling prodigy?" Cisco said. "Gee, that's not suspicious at all. He did a lot of bad stuff, no matter how much you want to talk him up."

"I always looked up to him," Quinn said, narrowing his eyes at Cisco. "And I see now that my faith never should have wavered. He was right. He was right about all of it."

Cisco swallowed. He still had the urge to back up, back out of the van, and this time he heeded it. He clutched his laptop like it was a life buoy, like it was the only thing keeping him above choppy water.

"I'm going to keep searching for a solution," he said firmly. "Now that you've let Cartwright die under your watch, we need all the resources we can get. Don't you dare force those doors before our two hours is up."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow. "Are you threatening _me_ , Ramon?"

In light of the conversation they'd just had, in light of the dead man outside the van and the dogtags within it, Cisco wanted to say _yes, yes I am._ But he saw the spark that had lain dormant in Quinn's eyes for too long, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

"I'll let you decide," he settled. "I'll be working. You know where to find me."

Quinn regarded him with disdain. "Yes. Yes, I do."

With bitterness on his tongue and an unforeseen fear in his bones, Cisco retreated. The night air outside was piercing, the slam of the van door irrevocable.

* * *

Barry drummed his fingers anxiously on the table. It wasn't wise to be back in his lab, not so soon after he'd been forcibly evicted from it, but it was the only place he could think of where he had access to computers. He kept one eye on the screen while Cisco spoke to him through the phone.

" _Gideon_?"

"Yeah, that's the last thing Cartwright said before he died," Barry said. "'That voice,' 'STAR Labs,' and 'Gideon.'"

" _Quinn mentioned that name, too,_ " said Cisco. " _Right before he went into his rant about how brilliant General Eiling was._ "

"A problem for another day," Barry said absently. "I'm gonna see what the FBI has to say about it. Also, I've cross-referenced it with STAR Labs—"

A beep from his left, the printer. He flashed over to it and flashed back, reading the text at superspeed.

"Okay. Brian Gideon, physicist and biochemist. Worked briefly for STAR Labs about seven years ago. Before that he was involved with the government weapons research center."

" _They're the ones who paid STAR Labs to develop the toxin._ "

"According to this, he lost his security clearance and was fired," Barry continued. He continued down the page of results, locking onto an address. "I think I better have a talk with this guy."

" _You might want to take some reinforcements with you_ ," Cisco said, sounding only half-joking. " _Sounds like Quinn might have the same idea._ "

"He's slow," Barry said. "I've got that on him, at least."

He zipped away before Cisco could come up with a response.

The darkness pressed into his bubble of lightning as he ran, the nighttime now absolute. He followed the mental map in his head through the main city streets, following it out, out, to the edges of the city, past the busy neighborhoods he normally patrolled. Iris and Caitlin propelled him forward. This was their last shot, their last hope.

The house he stopped at was innocuous enough, just a lonely rambler on the edge of a block—normal save for the boarded-up window at the front. The grass outside was ragged, the mailbox outside hanging open.

Barry phased through the door and made a circuit of the house, but it was empty. Once he'd checked out every room for signs of life, he cautiously sidled down the hallway. He was unsettled by the place, though he couldn't put his finger down on why. While the house was dim and maybe a little dusty, it was not out of the ordinary.

Then it struck him: there were no pictures on the walls. No pictures on the bureau, the mantelpiece, the side tables. Maybe family photos were normalized for Barry, who had seen them around the house his whole life. But still, regardless of what he had grown up with, the absence of such personal distinguishers raised a note of alarm.

He measured his steps softly, ready to bolt if necessary. He was all too aware of the man's power of invisibility, and the sense memory of being strangled was still fresh. It was only when he passed by the door to the garage that he heard a low voice.

He stilled, muscles tensing. The voice was just a mumble through the door, the words indistinguishable, but it was definitely a person. After listening for a few minutes, confirming that there was only one voice, Barry pushed open the garage door and slunk inside.

It wasn't just a garage—it was deeper, an empty room with a hallway connecting it to some additional structure that was not visible from the front of the house. The lights were off in the room Barry stepped into, but a low light spilled out from the hallway beyond. With measured steps, Barry crept forward into the hallway and toward that light. He pressed himself close to the wall as he went, realizing halfway down that the low voice had stopped the moment he opened the garage door.

The light came from a half-open sliding door at the end of the hallway. Barry pushed it open the rest of the way and squeezed through, hardly daring to breathe in the sudden silence. The room he found himself in was lit by sickly yellow lamps, which accentuated the sickly yellow walls, which accentuated the sickly yellowed papers scattered across the room. Even the lumpy couch in the corner, the only traditional form of seating in the room, was blanketed in paper.

The part of the room that caught Barry's eye the most, however, was the walls. The main coat of paint, that unsettling yellow color, was peeling. But on top of that, spray painted in red, were the words "STOP PAIN."

A glance around the over-stuffed room confirmed that it was empty, so Barry proceeded forward and picked up the first thing that stood out on top of the central table. It was a photo, curled around the edges, faded with water damage. Barry frowned at it, unsure at first what he was looking at. Then he realized what the subject of the photo was: a pair of bodies, face-down on the ground.

His stomach had just finished turning when he was startled by a low, ghostly voice:

"Looking for something?"

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! We're about halfway through now, and I hope you are still enjoying the story! I know we haven't seen much of the ladies in a while, but there will be more soon.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	8. Chapter 8

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Looking for something?"

Barry's attention flew upward at the sound of the voice. He should've known he wasn't alone, not when the man he was pursuing had the power to make himself unseen. Gideon stood stock still in the corner of the room, by the couch. But the moment Barry registered his presence, the man faded again into nothing. Barry zipped toward him. His hands met empty air.

"You may be fast," came Gideon's voice, somewhere behind him. "But you can't catch what you can't see."

His voice was coming from near the door this time, the still-open door. Before he could slip out, Barry held out a hand. "No, wait," he said. "Please."

Perhaps it was the fact that Barry had stopped pursuing, the openness of his posture, the desperation in his voice. Whatever the reason, Gideon stayed in the room. "What do you want?"

"The toxin," Barry said breathlessly, hardly daring to believe his luck, still holding out a placating hand. "And the antitoxin. There are two innocent women trapped in STAR Labs."

"Innocent? Bah!" Gideon's voice was off to the side now. Barry swiveled to compensate, still unwilling to turn his back on the invisible man. "They deserve to die."

" _No_!" Barry barked, almost choking on the word.

Inches in front of his face, so close it startled Barry backward, Gideon appeared. His large, circular glasses flashed like camera bulbs.

"2000 people died in Costa Luca," the man growled. "Nobody cares about them." He tore off his hat and slammed it on the table. With his forehead glaring and dark hair floating about his face, he looked as though he was full of static energy.

Despite the ferocity in the man's expression, however, Barry could only frown in confusion. "Costa Luca?"

"Nobody remembers them except me." Gideon scoffed and jerked forward.

"No, wait," Barry said, his mind catching up with his mouth. He remembered the news report, years ago; he remembered Joe's harrowed expression as news anchors repeated the story with greater chagrin each day until it grew too stale for the airwaves. "There was a nerve gas leak from an American factory."

"It wasn't a factory," said Gideon. "It was a secret laboratory developing chemical weapons. I worked there, and Quinn was in charge."

Barry didn't know what it was about him that always compelled criminals to divulge their motives. Perhaps it was the suit, the mask. He'd told Patty that, once. The mask made it easier to talk about private things. Easier to speak to a stranger.

Gideon looked down, appearing too emotional to continue, so Barry prompted him. "Quinn?"

"One day…" Gideon licked his lips, composing himself. "There was an accident. There were bodies everywhere." He looked around, his eyes soft as he took in something that wasn't there. Barry glanced down at the photo he'd been observing before, the one of the face-down corpses.

"What does that have to do with STAR Labs?" Barry asked, prickling with unease.

"I went to STAR Labs to start over." He took a deep breath. "To use my science to help people. Then I discovered they were developing chemical weapons for Quinn."

"Alright, but the other scientists didn't know," Barry countered.

A vein popped out of Quinn's shining forehead. "There are no innocents!" he screamed. "We are all responsible!"

He broke off with a groan. Of frustration? Of pain? When he doubled over, Barry instinctually shifted toward him, but Quinn shook his head.

"Stay back!" he said. He fumbled in his pocket. Barry tensed, automatically anticipating a weapon, but what Quinn produced from his overcoat was only a bottle of pills. He popped the lid, seemingly unconcerned by the Flash's presence, and shook out a few pills. With shaky hands, he tossed them into his mouth. Swallowed.

"Are you alright?" Barry asked, as Gideon grimaced.

Gideon made a noise like a scoff. "It's just a dark spot on my CAT scan. It's a brain tumor from Costa Luca."

Barry couldn't help the wince. It was a gut reaction—sympathy.

But Gideon could only offer a sardonic shrug. "Well, you can't play with fire and not get burned."

The pieces were starting to fall into place. The picture was taking shape in Barry's mind. Gideon's fingers twitched, his breathing labored from emotion.

Barry, deciding impulsively to let all of his guards down, kneeled before him. "Gideon, give me the antidote. Let me save my friends."

Gideon shook his head. His eyes still had that lost look. He was no longer searching for something, gazing at images that weren't there; he now appeared to be reconciling with that absence, falling into it, drowning in it.

"It doesn't matter. We'll all be dead anyway." A bead of sweat dripped down his temple. "Don't you see? If it happens in Central City, then maybe we will have done something!"

"You can't kill 10,000 people!" Barry exclaimed, grabbing Gideon by the shoulders.

Barry wanted to shake him, make him see sense, scare him, but even the aggressive gesture only pacified Gideon. Instead of reacting actively, Gideon just regarded Barry through those large glasses like he was something long-dead. "I can. And I am."

The simplicity of it was what made Barry shiver. "We can find another way. We'll call newspapers, the television stations. I know a reporter personally, and she would take this on in a heartbeat. We'll tell people what's going on here."

"They'll never listen."

"We'll make them listen!"

" _Barry?_ " Cisco's panicked voice cut through Barry's comms. " _Barry, are you there?_ "

"I'll help you," Barry said. He couldn't afford to respond to Cisco now. He couldn't afford to lose Gideon. He could see the man's face shifting, considering the possibilities. Barry leaned forward earnestly. "I'll help you, I promise."

Gideon squeezed his eyes closed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm so…" He shook his head heavily, then slowly, agonizingly, lifted his gaze to Barry. In the dimness, in the stillness, in the complete isolation of it all, his eyes were defeated. They were pleading. "I'm so tired."

" _Barry—if you can hear me—it's Quinn!"_

"Gideon!"

The shout came from just outside the room, a booming voice that seemed to shake the entire foundation of garage—it felt that way, at least, because of the way Gideon's gradually-softening expression suddenly cracked at the edges once more, his eyes flaring.

 _No,_ Barry thought. _Not now. Please, not now._

Gideon stood abruptly and strode to the door, and Barry followed helplessly.

"My men have the house surrounded," came Quinn's voice again. "I just want to talk!"

Like a caged animal, Gideon swiveled again, searching, always searching, as if he expected everyone to be as invisible as he was. "Quinn?" In his pivoting, he locked on Barry, and his face darkened. "You set me up."

"No," Barry said, putting as much force and honesty into the word that he could, but it was already too late. Gideon shoved he hat back on his head and was gone in a blink. Before Barry could make a move in his general direction, a hard shove to his chest sent him flying backward into a table. Barry's head hit hard, stunning him, as papers and books cascaded down around him.

He struggled to recover, blinking away spots. A crash drew him blearily to the single window in the room. The glass exploded outward, and Barry knew that Gideon was long gone.

The heavy footfalls of Quinn's men thundered down the hallway beyond. _Turns out Quinn was close personal friends with General Wade Eiling_ , Cisco had told him. It was not a chance worth taking.

Barry pulled himself to his feet. Just before taking off, he spotted a flashdrive on table and made a dive for it. Then, as the door burst open behind him, he followed Gideon out the shattered window.

* * *

The machine beeped at Caitlin, and the once-innocuous sound now pounded through her skull like a jackhammer. She shut her eyes against it, willing herself to succumb to the darkness that tugged at her, but also aware of the responsibility that anchored her to this workstation. She couldn't stop. Not now. Dragging her eyes open again, she silenced the noise.

"Another dead end," she said.

How long had it been? How much time did they have left? Caitlin supposed she should've been paying more attention to the clock, especially after she had lost contact with Barry and Cisco, but she also felt that there was no point to it. They were going to die when they were going to die. Following time on a clock would make no difference.

When Caitlin pulled out the failed serum attempt, though, she sensed in her bones that the clock was close to expiration.

A moan sounded behind her, and she swiveled in her seat just in time to see Iris collapse to the floor. Her heart constricted at the confirmation of her suspicions.

"Iris!" she said, pushing herself to her feet and staggering across the floor to Iris. Her strength and balance was shot; she dropped, and her knees hit the linoleum with bruising force. "Are you okay?"

Iris dragged herself to her elbows shakily. "My legs…they're numb."

"Stay down." With sluggish muscles, Caitlin tugged off her lab coat and tucked it as a makeshift pillow below Iris' head. When Iris made a noise of protest, Caitlin put a hand on her shoulder. "Stay down, Iris. It's the toxin. It attacks the body's nerve centers. Lie still."

"We're…we're running out of time," Iris managed, echoing the thoughts that had been pinging through Caitlin's mind. Her head collapsed onto the lab coat and she glanced up at the clock, which Caitlin had been deliberately avoiding. "In an hour we'll be dead."

"Barry will find the antidote," said Caitlin unconvincingly. She wanted to cling to the phrase, was trying to cling to the phrase: because she trusted Barry, she did. It was the ticking clock she didn't trust.

Iris blinked lethargically. "He's looking for a needle in a haystack. And the needle is invisible."

Caitlin dragged herself to the wall so she could rest her forehead against it. "There must be a way we can help him," he said. "How do you make an invisible man visible?"

If she was in her right mind, with all of her wits about her, she was sure the solution would be there. She was sure there was an answer right in front of her face, and she was just too tired to see it. It was her fault that she was so useless, that she couldn't open her eyes to see—

"He has to make…sounds, doesn't he?"

Iris' weak voice was enough to pry Caitlin's eyelids back open. She'd started to drift, leaning there against the wall. She straightened and looked down at Iris, whose brow was furrowed as she stared at a spot on the floor.

"What did you say?" Caitlin said.

"Is—isn't there a way you can—I don't know, detect his breathing, or—his heartbeat?"

The spark of hope flared in Caitlin's chest but was almost immediately extinguished. "Not easy on a busy street corner," she said. "Even with directional microphones. It was a good thought, though. Here, just stay put and rest. I'm going to run a few more tests."

Before she could rise, though, Iris spoke again. "Wait, what about heat?"

Again, a pause. "What?"

Iris' mouth twitched in a half-smile of apology, and she shook her head. "Look, science was never my subject, but isn't there a…a way you can detect his heat waves? He's not dead, so shouldn't he still…give off warmth? I don't know, I…" She broke off with a feeble cough, cheeks flushed.

But this time the spark of hope flared to life. Caitlin went rigid. "Iris, you're brilliant! You can do more than detect heat waves. You can see them. _Thank you_."

She rose to her feet with more energy than she'd managed in an hour, swaying only briefly. When she looked down at Iris, the woman wore a small, private smile.

"This can work," Caitlin said, shuffling through some papers on the desk, snagging a pen that was about to fall. "Iris, you're a genius, we can make this work…"

"Okay, but…" A note of disappointment snuck into Iris' voice. "Even if we do come up with a solution, how do we get that message off to Barry and Cisco?"

This gave Caitlin paused. The last they'd seen, Barry was being arrested, and who knew where Cisco had been taken. Caitlin didn't have the tech genius of Cisco, and there was no way she could worm her way into a computer system to get in contact with him. Even if she knew where to start looking.

She stopped dead, her hands dropping. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not…I'm not sure my hacking skills are good enough to get us there."

"Wait," Iris said. "Think smaller. We don't need hacking. We don't even need computers."

Caitlin looked over at Iris, who still had that curious smile on her lips. "Keep talking."

* * *

Cisco handed Barry a calorie bar, frowning when the speedster didn't accept it. "You do this too often, you know. Not eat in a crisis."

"I don't see you making Big Belly Burger runs."

"Touché." Cisco scrubbed at his eyes. How long had it been since he'd slept? "But you're looking extra-harrowed. You should probably re-fuel. I take it your meeting with Gideon didn't go well?"

"Sorry I didn't respond when you tried to warn me about Quinn," Barry said. "He got away. Gideon, I mean."

"You're probably best getting away too," Cisco said. "From Quinn. Now that he's gotten a taste of what metahumans are capable of, and now that we know how close he was to Eiling…better to keep your distance."

"You too."

"Please," Cisco scoffed. "Vibe's not nearly as well-known as you pretend he is."

Barry looked desperately in need of a rest, but he opted to stand behind the empty chair instead of sitting in it. "We've got to find Gideon again."

Cisco exhaled through his noise. "I'm open to ideas."

At that moment, a grating electronic noise sounded across the lab. Cisco startled and squinted toward the noise.

"Is that a fax machine?"

"Um." Barry crossed his arms, clearly as puzzled as Cisco was. "Yes?"

"Well, someone's up awful late." Cisco rose from his chair and crossed the room.

The fax machine in question was tucked against the wall on one of counters, half-buried in other paraphernalia, clearly a forgotten piece of equipment amidst the computers and microscopes and fancy tech. A page stuttered out the bottom of the machine and dropped to the floor. Cisco picked it up and righted it.

"'Invisible man should give off infrared heat signature,'" he read off. "'75 to 100,000 angstroms.' What is this?"

"It's from Caitlin and Iris," said Barry, blurring across the room to read over Cisco's shoulder. "Infrared heat signature. It's a way to see Gideon." His head snapped sideways. "Do you think you can build some tech for me?"

"It's what I do," Cisco said, heart skipping faster. "There may even be something here at the station I can re-configure. Give me just a little time."

"That's something we're running out of," Barry reminded him.

But he didn't need reminding.

* * *

Iris had told Caitlin that her legs were numb, but in reality it was so much more than that. Not only could she not feel her legs, she couldn't feel her fingers, or her face. She alternated between utter dull exhaustion and throbbing pain deep in her bones that kept her awake. Even now, lying on the floor of the cortex, she couldn't keep grounded.

A low sound from an adjoining room. The clack of heels, vibrations reaching Iris from across the cortex. A distant rustle of paper. A pause. More heels.

Iris pried her eyes open as the heel-clicks came to a stop inches from her face. Her vision was blurry an indistinct, focusing slowly like an old manual camera. The first thing she saw, ridiculously, was a scuff on the side of Caitlin's peach-colored heels.

"I got a response from Barry about your heat idea," Caitlin said. She dropped stiffly to her knees and proffered the page that had been faxed back, as if Iris could make out any of the words on it.

"What's it say?"

Caitlin pleated the page. "It says, 'Why didn't I think of that?'" A hand to Iris' arm. "And, 'Don't give up hope.'"

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading!**

 **The last chapter was the first time I haven't actually asked for comments, and I got next to no comments, leading me to believe I jinxed myself. So, here's me shamelessly requesting feedback again! Let the jinx be over!**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	9. Chapter 9

**Thanks so much for the lovely response to the last chapter. I think the jinx is broken!**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"Got it," Cisco said, jogging back through the doors of Barry's lab with a black box held aloft. "Like I thought, they had some basic infrared stuff downstairs that I could work with. This is really basic, but we've worked with prototypes before."

"As long as it doesn't explode on my face," Barry said, hardly looking up from where he was fixated on Cisco's laptop.

Cisco paused, briefly. "Um. Hadn't thought of that. But no, it, uh, shouldn't. I hope." He dropped the box on the table and squinted at the laptop. "What do you have there?"

"The flashdrive I swiped from Gideon's place. I think I've got a lead on him. Listen to this."

He hit the play button, and a fuzzy audio recording started playing. Gideon's distorted voice filled the room—even more haunting considering, well, invisible man.

" _Soon Central City will pay the price for harboring the death merchants of STAR Labs."_ Cisco raised his eyebrows in a _creepy much?_ gesture, but Barry just nodded at the screen to keep Cisco's attention focused. " _I will taint the waters and poison the well…and they'll drink their own destruction."_

"Poison the well?" Cisco said, the understanding clicking into place.

"He's going to put it in the reservoir," Barry said. "He's going to poison Central City's water supply."

"Go." Cisco's eyes widened. "Run."

* * *

The glass of water shook in Caitlin's hand so much, it was a miracle she had any left by the time she made it from the sink to the other end of the room. She set it on the floor beside Iris and straightened, not trusting herself to help Iris hands-on.

"Try to drink this," she said. "It might make you feel better. You should keep hydrated."

She staggered back toward the main computer bank and leaned heavily against the table.

"Why?"

"Hm?"

"Why?" Iris said. "There's no point. Face it, Caitlin. No amount of hydration…is going to help now."

"We've got to stay sharp for when the rescue team arrives," Caitlin said. "Treatment will be easier if we take care of ourselves."

"That includes resting," Iris said. "Cait, look at you. You can hardly keep your feet. Why don't you sit down here? Just for a minute?"

"Because," Caitlin said, "if I sit down, I'm not getting back up again. I know that. If I let myself sit down…I know it's over." She rubbed her forehead. Squeezed her eyes shut against an ache in her head. Slammed her palm against the table. "I'm a biochemist, damnit. I should be able to think of a way to neutralize this."

"Just take a breath," Iris said. "Take your own advice. Have some water."

Caitlin leaned against the desk. She did follow Iris' first instruction, with a long, slow inhale. The exhale, however, came out as a wheeze, which dissolved into an uncontrollable cough. Tears sprang to her eyes, only partly from the force of the coughs.

The cortex was so cold.

When the episode passed, she kept her head bowed to hide the tears. She didn't turn when Iris asked tentatively, "Are you alright?"

"I always hated the flu," she responded hoarsely. "I mean, nobody _likes_ the flu, I suppose, but…" She licked her dry lips. "My mom never took off work when I stayed home sick from school. She would just make me a bowl of soup before she left in the morning and leave it on my nightstand. It was always cold by lunchtime."

"That's awful," Iris said.

Caitlin shrugged. "It was normal. But I hated…this feeling, this feeling of helplessness, being so sick I couldn't even get out of bed to heat up a bowl of broth. Like my body was…out of my control, like it was rebelling against my carefully-cultivated independence." She offered a tight smile. "I guess I've never been good at relying on others."

"It sounds to me like you never could," Iris said.

Caitlin let out a half-laugh, too breathy to be real or impactful. To be fair, nothing felt quite real—or impactful—anymore. "Sorry. Probably too much information."

"No such thing," Iris replied. She, too, coughed; but her coughs were less violent, almost like her body couldn't even summon up the effort to expel the substance that was destroying it. When the cough subsided, she took a moment to compose herself. "My dad couldn't stay home much either when I had the flu. But when he was home, he always made me this homemade chicken noodle soup."

"He makes good chicken noodle soup, doesn't he?"

"Terrible," said Iris. "So bad I can't eat chicken noodle soup of any kind to this day. I don't know what he did to it to make it so inedible." She paused. "But I ate it. I ate every bite of it, because I didn't want to make him feel bad. I was throwing up anyway, so he never suspected."

When Caitlin angled her head toward Iris, she saw that she was smiling.

"I wish I had some of it now," Iris said. "Terrible as it was. It never got better, you know. But I wish I had some."

Caitlin nodded. She understood.

Iris laughed softly. "My one advantage was that I didn't get sick nearly as often as Barry. But that's changed now, I guess. Lucky bastard with his metahuman metabolism."

Caitlin started to laugh too, ready to commiserate and pretend they weren't dying and share stories of how miserable Barry became when he was affected by the symptoms of some super-sickness two months back. But just as she opened her mouth to contribute, a thought struck her: a whack in the face as stunning as solid wood.

"Barry," she said. She was the Flash's personal physician, and she was also a biochemist—she had told Iris that, hadn't she? "Barry's the key. I don't know why I didn't think of it before." She reached for the fax machine, tearing a piece of paper from the feed. "I have to get a message to them. Right now."

* * *

Usually when he ran, Barry kept his breaths controlled and even. It was one thing he'd learned from dozens of articles he'd read while learning running techniques. Measuring breath was key to keeping pace and staying focused.

Now, though, he couldn't. He couldn't control his ragged breath, his gulps of air. His mind was elsewhere, his pace too desperate to be precise. Even his technique was off; it was only when he tripped on a street corner curb and nearly flew two blocks that he consciously thought about his steps.

Thirty miles out of the city, the lights of a huge sign streaked into view, and Barry slipped to a halt. _Central City Reservoir Pumping Station_ , the silver lights announced, flickering above a guard station. Barry stopped just long enough to confirm that the guard inside wasn't dead, simply unconscious, before racing into the heart of the facility.

Several large tanks occupied the center of room, so large it was impossible to case the area on sight alone. Even if he was visible, Gideon could be lurking around any corner. Too many places to hide.

Barry took advantage of this first by tucking himself away into a corner partially obscured by rising steam. The cumbersome goggles Cisco had designed were strapped tightly to his forehead, but he pulled them down now. They fit perfectly over the eye holes of his mask, and he snorted. Goggles on a speedster. He could only imagine how ridiculous he looked.

It took a few moments to adjust to the infrared vision. He blinked a couple times in quick succession to clear his sight. Everything was bright, grainy—more shapes than actual tangible objects. He felt as though he was walking through an old video game, a low-resolution world.

It was less than ideal, but hey, if it worked, it worked. Feeling half-blind, Barry emerged from the steam and began prowling through the facility. A low, continuous rumble vibrated through him with each step. He shook off a chill; in addition to the general coolness of the facility, he couldn't help but feel like he was being watched.

He stuck close to the walls, close to the tanks. He couldn't stop blinking, an automatic response to the stunted vision.

A bang drew Barry's attention to the side. He squinted, heart stuttering in his chest as he strained to make out the source of the noise. It had to have been a byproduct of the machinery. He was jumpy, that was all. He took a few more steps forward, fixed on a point just around one of the tanks. Was that movement? He hadn't even considered the possibility that there might still be workers in the facility—but surely if Gideon was going so far as to kill everyone in Central City, he wouldn't hesitate to murder these mechanics?

Skin crawling, feeling blind and helpless and extremely on-edge, Barry crept toward the noise.

Ahead of him, a panel of one tank was half-open, as though someone had attempted to wrench it open and had given up partway through. That this opening would lead to the water supply, Barry had no doubt. But what had made Gideon give up in the middle?

Still creeping forward, Barry touched a finger to his earpiece. "Cisco?" he whispered. He waited a few seconds. No response, not even static. "Cisco?"

Something was wrong—he was speaking into dead air. Either his comms were malfunctioning, or something was tampering with them. The pit of unease grew in his stomach. How long had he been out of contact with Cisco?

It was a bad sign, he thought. A sign, perhaps, that he should turn back and re-adjust. Instead, he took a few more steps forward and tried again.

"Cisco?"

"He can't hear you," came a hiss like steam behind him.

Barry spun. A silhouette, fiery hot and bright and human-shaped, loomed in his vision. Barry's instinct was to jerk backward, but before he could, a hand fisted in the front of his suit, and something sharp sank into his neck. A rush of cold, an instant blossoming of pain and dizziness.

He tried to reach for the culprit, but as soon as the hand was released from his suit, he pitched forward and collapsed. The concrete met his elbows hard; he tried to push himself back up, groaning, as the empty syringe clattered beside him.

"Infrared goggles?" the voice continued. Barry's arms shook with the effort of keeping him up. Whatever he had been injected with was working fast. He struggled to crawl forward, but an invisible foot met his ribs and sent him to his back. "Very impressive. But they won't do you any good now." A hand, visible as a heat-yellow blur, reached down and wrenched the goggles from Barry's face. Barry looked over just in time to see them deposited on the ground and smashed to pieces under unseen boots.

Barry's entire body was trembling with weakness, his bones filled with an icy ache. He couldn't move: he was buried under an immense weight, like being trapped miles under the surface of an ocean.

He didn't even have the strength to swat away the hand that hooked under his mask and tore it upward. He blinked, still adjusting to the darkness, and Gideon materialized before his eyes.

"Thought it was only fair that I see your face; after all, you're one of the rare people who have seen mine." He tutted. "I should have known. You're just another one of those STAR Labs brats, aren't you? So young. Such wasted potential, working for murderers."

"G-Gideon," Barry stammered. "Stop. Stop all of this."

He tried to lift his head, but it was too heavy. It fell back to the concrete and he winced.

"What I've injected you with is a pure concentration of my toxin, the very same I'm going to put in the water supply," Gideon drawled. "First you'll feel your body going numb. Then you won't be able to breathe. And then, finally, you'll suffocate."

Barry believed it, too. Already the pain was fading into a pins-and-needles tingling, the weight even more crushing. The pressure was forcing air out of his lungs, his limbs too heavy to move. A rushing noise filled his ears, and he gasped, instinctively, against the water that seemed to be filling his lungs.

As Barry rasped for air, Gideon crossed his arms and leaned back against the tank, watching him curiously. "This didn't have to happen, you know. If you would've stayed out of my way, I wouldn't have to kill you. But I knew you'd come after me, especially once I learned you set me up for Quinn."

"I—didn't," Barry tried to say, but his throat constricted in a wheeze and he could say no more.

"Right," Gideon said. "You, at the mighty STAR Labs, could do no wrong. You're just here to _help_ people. No matter the collateral damage. Well, now you'll die like the rest of them. A taste of your own medicine."

 _I'm sorry_ , he wanted to say. Partly to Gideon, yes. Partly for all of the things done in the name of STAR Labs, the things they would always be atoning for. But partly, also, to Caitlin and Iris. _I'm sorry I couldn't save you_.

Barry's muscles spasmed, and he choked back a moan.

"It looks like your toxin is beyond effective," said Gideon, still leaning almost casually against the tank as Barry twitched on the ground. His gaze never wavered, like he was observing a particularly interesting scientific process. "Don't worry, it should be over soon. Take comfort in the fact that you're dying much quicker than your friends." He squinted. "But I'll wait. I'm a patient man. I'm content to watch you suffer for as long as it takes for you to die."

Barry had the feeling it wouldn't be much longer. It was getting harder and harder to breathe, and his body was no longer in his control. Dark spots burst at the corners of his vision, his blood like slow-moving lava.

 _Fight it_ , he thought, even though every nerve ending pled, _Just give in_.

Then, another voice, clear and commanding:

"Get away from him."

Barry didn't see Cisco; but he did see the vibrational blasts that knocked Gideon clean off his feet.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! Only a few more chapters to go! If you have a moment, I'd love to hear your thoughts below.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	10. Chapter 10

**Guys...I can't believe we got an episode about a city of gorillas. This is everything I've ever wanted from this show. We've made it.**

 **Enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

"Get away from him."

When Cisco lifted his hand, his aim was true. Gideon had scarcely turned his head when the vibrational blasts hit him square in the chest. His mouth opened in a silent cry of surprise, and he soared backward across the floor.

Adrenaline pumped through Cisco's blood, angry and hot, as he jogged across the floor to Barry and knelt. The story told itself—the empty syringe on the ground, Barry's pale and maskless face, the whining nature of each inhale, and the random spasms in the speedster's body.

"Hey man," Cisco said, putting a hand bracingly on his friend's chest. "I've got you. I tried to reach you. I got here as fast as I could."

"Gid—deon," Barry stammered.

"It's okay, he's—" But Cisco cut himself off when he looked up and realized that Gideon had vanished. His heart plummeted. He was just beginning to rise to his feet when an unseen boot connected with his face with a resounding _thwack!_ and a kalaeidoscope of pain.

When Cisco finally managed to blink away the spots in his vision, he was lying flat on the cement, and he tasted blood. He scrambled to his feet, spitting out the coppery substance as he went. There was no trace of Gideon, no hint as to his location, no movement in the dark.

"Have to…stop him…" Barry gritted out, trying and falling to roll to the side.

"I know, I know, but I can't see him." Cisco understood the severity of the situation as well as Barry; if Gideon even got close to one of the water tanks, it would be too late for all of them.

They were running out of time.

Then a thought, crazy, dawned on him. He'd never done it before, he was unsure if it would work, but in theory…

He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. He had a brief thought of _Luke, use the force_ as he closed his eyes, and it drew a faint smile to his lips.

It was like meditating, really. He took slow, even breaths. He tuned out the ticking clock, tuned out the throbbing of his face, tuned out even his dying friend at his feet and his dying friends ten miles away. Instead, he tuned into something intangible, the source of his powers. He tapped into the filaments of vibrational energy in the air around him. Instead of scooping them all up in a bunch and hurling them outward, he listened. He listened to the delicacy of each individual strand.

He saw, or rather felt, Gideon, in what he could only describe as a process of echolocation. He felt the disturbance of the vibrational energy, distinctly human-shaped, elevated to visible levels because of the electrical energy Gideon was pulling from.

It was so simple, Cisco couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. Once he'd located the man, he gathered up all of the restless energy around him and shot it forward. He opened his eyes just as the blast connected. Gideon materialized and rammed backward into the tank, his head connecting with a sickening crack before he crumpled to the ground.

A direct hit. Cisco allowed himself a tiny, private smile of pride.

It didn't last for long, though. The time for pride had to come after the time for action. And there was still more action to be taken. Without hesitation this time, Cisco jogged across the floor and kicked the vial of toxin away from Gideon's reach, even though it was evident Gideon would not be reaching for it again.

"Someone…has to do something." Gideon coughed weakly, and Cisco kneeled down to his level. The man was pale, his gaze unfocused. "We are all responsible."

His eyes started to wander, so Cisco grabbed him by the front of the shirt. "Where is the antidote?" No response. Cisco shook him. He shook a dying man, and he felt nothing. "Tell me. Where. The antidote. Is." _You have nothing to lose by telling me now_ , he thought.

 _And I have so much to lose by you not telling me,_ he added silently.

Gideon's lashes fluttered. What was killing him? Was it the force of Cisco's vibrational blasts? Or had those just exacerbated an existing problem? Cisco would deal with the remorse later.

"It's too late," Gideon said. "The vial is broken."

"You're lying," Cisco breathed, but the spike of nausea in his stomach believed otherwise. Gideon had no reason to lie now, not when his grand plan for catastrophe had failed—what did he care for the other catastrophe, the one imminent at STAR Labs?

Gideon coughed weakly, and all of the fight drained from Cisco's body. He released his grip on the front of Gideon's shirt, the hopelessness numbing him as effectively as a nerve toxin.

"Lie still," said Cisco. "I'll send help."

But Gideon's eyelids fluttered, and his exhale was too long. He would give no response, no confession. Cisco rose to his feet and tried not to look back. Instead he focused on the living man in the room—he had to focus on _keeping_ him living.

"Barry," he breathed, sinking down onto the concrete again. The speedster gasped for air, his lips turning blue. "Stay with me, man. You're gonna be okay."

"Go." The speedster choked on the word, his body jerking. "Leave me. Save 'ris 'n Cait."

"I'm not leaving you," Cisco said, and he dug around in his coat for the syringe he'd brought. When his fumbling fingers found it, he drew it from his pocket. It went gingerly between his teeth for safekeeping while he peeled off one of Barry's gloves and rolled up the tight sleeve. Once a suitable vein was bared, Cisco took the syringe from his teeth and braced his free hand on Barry's arm. "Hold still, alright? Just…try to breathe."

But Barry's eyes were beginning to roll up into his head, consciousness evaporating like shallow water on a hot day. With no time left to agonize, Cisco slid the needle of the syringe under Barry's skin and released its contents into his bloodstream.

For a minute, one awful, awful minute, Cisco thought it hadn't worked. Barry showed no signs of change. His chest stuttered up and down with such an inconstancy that Cisco feared each one. The spasming of his muscles grew weaker, less frequent.

The terror was so great, Cisco couldn't even bring himself to speak. If Barry died—if Barry died, then Caitlin and Iris would quickly follow. And then Cisco would lose everyone, every single one of them, in one fell swoop. A tidal wave of loss that he was certain he would never recover from.

But then, too soft for Cisco to initially believe, Barry wheezed, "'sco?"

Cisco perked up, leaned forward. "Still here. I'm still here, Barry. Slow breaths. That's it." Barry's eyes struggled open again as his breathing returned with agonizing lethargy. "That's it. It's okay. Take it easy."

Finally, after what felt like hours of maddening sluggishness, Barry's chest rose and fell unfettered. A shudder passed through him and he grimaced. He face was shiny with sweat, but some of the color had returned to his cheeks and lips. He remained prone, but his now-clear eyes sought out Cisco.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Cisco admitted. "It was all Caitlin. She sent through another fax right after you left with an idea for an improvised anti-toxin. She thought that a specific compound might react with your blood in such a way that it would fight the nerve agent." He shrugged. "You had the right ingredients at CCPD, except your blood, obviously. So when I couldn't reach you through the comms, I figured I should find you myself."

"Good thing you did," Barry groaned, simultaneously squeezing his eyes shut and squeezing his fingers. Cisco hadn't even realized he'd been holding his hand until he felt the pressure in his palm. "You cant've known that would work."

"No," said Cisco. "It was just a hunch. But it was the only hunch we had."

Still gulping in air, Barry pushed himself shakily to a sitting position. "Thanks for saving my life."

"Thank Caitlin," Cisco said.

Barry bowed his head and nodded, collecting himself. When he looked up again, he had that exhausted, yet determined, look that meant he was about to do something he probably shouldn't. "We have a cure now. We need to get back."

Under normal circumstances, Cisco might have told him to _stay down, you almost just died_. But even he knew that request was unreasonable. Both of them would literally drop dead before wasting time on rest, and Cisco recognized that. He knew what needed to be done, and Barry's comfort did not trump any of that. Instead of needlessly protesting, he gripped Barry's hand tighter and helped him to his feet. Then he watched the world blur.

* * *

Everyone talked about the nightmare of not being able to run from your demons. Of having legs too leaden to lift, of being too slow to create distance between yourself and the thing with teeth that snapped at your ankles.

Barry had once admitted that it was a recurring nightmare for him, especially since getting his powers. Cisco and Iris had chimed in that they recognized the basic conceit of the dream, having experienced something similar themselves. But Caitlin—Caitlin had always had other nightmares, perhaps too many to allow space for this one.

But now she was experiencing it for herself, in real time, with the kind of tangibility that simply couldn't be acquired in dreams. She now, at last, understood what was so terrifying about not being able to move one's legs.

She clawed at the wall for support as she walked, tripping over herself as she went. Her legs were like pins and needles before the pins and needles could start. They were dead weights, somehow bigger and more unwieldy than they had ever been. It was a miracle she was even upright; she recognized that, and yet, she kept pushing forward.

It was only thirty feet from the fax machine to the medical bay, but she felt as though she'd been walking for hours.

Once she made it inside the darkened medical bay, she leaned against one of the beds and fumbled open one of the cabinets. A small cooler stayed padlocked at all times; with the likes of Eiling and others out there, Barry's blood was a precious commodity and one that could be dangerous if put into the wrong hands.

Despite all of these valid reasons to keep the fridge locked, Caitlin deeply regretted the padlock now. Her fingers were just as senseless as her legs, shaky and uncontrollable. It took her four tries and four precious minutes to get the combination right, and even then it took a good deal of effort to get the lock from the door and pry open the fridge.

Her heart sank as she looked inside and saw only one vial of blood remaining. Not enough to make an antitoxin for both her and Iris.

But enough to make one batch for Iris. And that thought, alone, lit the spark again. With renewed purpose, Caitlin collected the cold vial and straightened.

It was thirty feet from the medical bay to her workroom, where she kept the compound necessary for mixing with the blood. Thirty feet. She'd made the trip once. She could make it again.

"Did you find the blood?" Iris called weakly.

"I did," Caitlin affirmed. "I just need to mix it with the compound."

 _I can save you_ , she added silently. _Don't worry, Iris. I'm going to save you_.

She was halfway to her work station when her leg went as weak as jelly. As numb as it was, she didn't immediately understand why she was suddenly tipping sideways. She'd gotten so dizzy the past hour, the sensation wasn't unusual. But then her cheek hit the linoleum, her vision went black, and something crashed.

She blinked her awareness back with great effort, gripping to consciousness with claws of pure willpower. It would be easy to go to sleep right now—a quick, simple death—but she hadn't made it this far to give up on Iris now.

"Cait?" Iris was saying, somewhere distant. "Are you okay?"

Caitlin lifted her head. The world swam with white, everywhere white, except for one spot just to her right. A red splotch on the floor, dark and angry amid a kaleidoscope of broken glass.

The world collapsed. Buried her.

"No, I'm not," she whispered. "It's over. It's all over."

"Was that the last of the blood?" Iris said.

Caitlin couldn't even bring herself to nod. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to the floor and welcomed the sensation of everything leaving her. The pain, the words, the hope. It was easier this way, being empty, knowing there was nothing left to be done. If she died quickly, she might even be able to escape the gouging out of utter failure.

"Get up," said Iris. "Caitlin, get up. This isn't on you, and you are _not_ leaving me now. Stand up."

Caitlin considered it, considered the options. Once she thought about it, she did get up—just enough to crawl the distance to Iris. Once she made it to the woman's side, she at last allowed herself to sit.

She sat facing outward, the cold cortex a reminder of her shortcomings, the cold fingertips and toes a promise. Iris was the only thing warm in this place. She could sense that much, at least, at her back.

She let out a long, deep breath that it felt as though she'd been holding for ages. Sitting was nice. It was simple. She closed her eyes.

"Do you want to know something terrible?" Iris said, broaching that terrible heavy silence that was piling up like snow. "I've been lying here thinking about what I'm going to miss most when I'm dead."

She waited, perhaps for Caitlin to inquire further. Caitlin didn't have the energy, so Iris continued:

"My family. All of you at STAR Labs. My job." A pause. "You know what I came up with?"

"What?"

"Chocolate."

A laugh tore its way out of Caitlin's throat, and a pure, genuine smile stretched its way across her face. "Oh, God, yes."

The laughter continued a few more moments, but gradually the hugeness of the lab swallowed it up whole. The smile at Caitlin's lips turned downward. She pushed backward, suddenly needing the support of the wall against her spine to keep her upright. Another sigh stole breath.

"Caitlin, are you afraid?"

Caitlin stared at the flashing red warning lights, darkness creeping around the edges of her vision.. "I'm trying not to be."

"Is it working?"

"No."

She looked down, tears misting in her eyes. They'd both faced death many times, too many times to count. Now that it was death was wrapping its fingers around their throats, it felt neither comfortable nor ordinary.

Gently, unexpectedly, Iris' hand found hers. Her warmth pressed into Caitlin's palm, just searching fingers in a whirling void of uncertainty. The only anchor Caitlin needed. Not enough, but something.

Caitlin closed her fingers over Iris', and they greeted the dark with watchful quiet.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! Can you tell what my ships are?**

 **I look forward to hearing your thoughts on the chapter and the probability of painful deaths for our favorite characters. See you Sunday!**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	11. Chapter 11

**I forgot to tell you that there would be a fair bit of science shenanigans in this story. Nothing too unusual for the show, though.**

 **Anyway, the penultimate chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

"I'mgoingtomakemoreofthisserumyoustallQuinn."

Usually Barry's speed talk was too fast to comprehend. It must have been by virtue of heightened adrenaline that Cisco understood any of it; he nodded his assent just as Barry set him down and sped away. It took only a moment for Cisco to process where he was: just beyond the crime scene tape outside STAR. He was armed with nothing, not even his laptop. After his last confrontation with Quinn, what could he do to possibly stall the progress here?

He started marching forward without a plan, his mind churning with each step, determination the only thing that propelled him. He brushed back his hair grimly and ducked beneath the caution tape. He didn't see Quinn anywhere, but he had to be in the van.

The security guards were no longer stationed outside the van doors, so Cisco marched up without breaking stride. Still no plan, still no certainty, still very little courage. He raised his fist to knock.

When the doors burst open, they missed his face by inches. He stumbled backward, all composure broken, and clutched at his heart as Quinn vaulted out of the van.

"Go, now," Quinn told the guard that exited the van with him. "Update me on any progress." The guard scurried off, and Quinn's gaze landed on a still-shaken Cisco. "What happened to you? Get beat up by the high school bullies behind a dumpster?"

Cisco was all at once acutely aware of his bloodied face. He didn't think Gideon's kick had broken his nose, but it hadn't stopped bleeding since the blow. "Something like that. Listen. You need to hold off on opening those doors. Just a little longer."

"We're almost out of time."

 _You think I don't realize that?_ "I know. I've managed to tap into STAR Labs' security system," Cisco said honestly. "But I haven't been able to neutralize all of the emergency counter-measures."

Quinn crossed his arms. "Where does that leave us?"

Cisco resisted the urge to bite his lip. "Well, there's a 50/50 chance if we crack those doors that the failsafe circuit will kick in anyway and irradiate the lab."

The expression on Quinn's face was impossible to read. "50/50?"

Cisco swallowed, nodded.

Another pause, more unstable than the last. Quinn looked skyward, pursed a lip. "I can live with those odds." He made a motion at the guard he had just dismissed, and Cisco's heart thunked downward like a heavy stone. "Let's blow those doors!"

"No, wait!" Cisco said, desperately stepping in Quinn's path before he could continue forward. "There's an antidote. There's an antidote to the toxin."

"You have an antidote with you?" Quinn raised an eyebrow.

The agents were bustling around him, making for the STAR Labs doors, an unstoppable wave. Cisco's mouth was as dry as cotton. "Not with me."

"I don't have time for this." Quinn moved as if to press past Cisco, but Cisco held his ground.

"The Flash is bringing it," Cisco blurted. "It will be here within minutes."

As Cisco should have predicted, Quinn went as cold and still as a statue at the words. His gaze slid to Cisco with sudden attentiveness. "You know the Flash."

"I—"

"You've been working for the Flash," Quinn insisted. "Haven't you? STAR Labs. I should've realized sooner that you'd be in cahoots with Central City's hero. You can tell me exactly how to utilize his abilities. You can convince him to help the cause."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cisco said, but Quinn reached up and snapped his fingers. Cisco whirled to see two agents nod, both of them brandishing portable control panels hooked up to the door of STAR. Hooked up to explosives. Quinn's shoulder caught Cisco hard, and Cisco reached out to physically hold him back. "Wait, you have to _wait_!"

But Quinn shoved Cisco bodily backward. Two sets of hands circled around Cisco's upper arms, pinning them two his sides, but he continued to struggle.

"Detain him," Quinn drawled. "Blow those doors when ready."

"Stop!" Cisco screamed, pushing forward, forward. The guards held him, but they stayed in place—held him in place to watch the death of his friends in real-time before being shipped off to God-knows-where for interrogation—

"Clear!" someone shouted.

"Please!" Cisco yelled. "Please, stop!"

Both agents with their control panels made their final adjustments, pressed their respective buttons. A moment, one silent moment where the midnight itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then the front doors of STAR Labs blew wide.

* * *

A low boom, somewhere too far-off to care. A faint tremble in the floor, a flickering of the computer lights. A cut to static.

Exhausted, Iris started to close her eyes again. It felt so good to rest her eyes, to find that fuzzy medium between living and dying. Before she could, though, a warning announcement tore through the quiet lab.

" _Security breach. Commence radiation sequence in ten seconds."_

"No."

Despite it all, Caitlin was still clinging to the panic of life, her eyes half-lidded and hazy like she was in the throes of a fever.

" _Ten…nine…_ "

Iris squeezed her hand tighter, a gesture of calm.

" _Eight…seven…_ "

Caitlin leaned her head back against the wall and gripped her hand in return.

" _Six_ …"

Iris closed her eyes.

* * *

Barry was certain he left scorch trails on the floor of his lab as he sped out of CCPD. With two syringes of antidote burning through the leather of his gloves, no other sensations were important. The weakness in his muscles from the poison could have been debilitating in normal circumstances; now, it had to be merely an inconvenience by necessity.

He only hoped Cisco had managed to buy enough time with Quinn. Barry had only needed a few minutes to draw his blood, mix it with the compound, and get it into the syringes, but a lot could happen in a few minutes. A few minutes felt like ages, even without the speed-induced hyper-awareness of time.

He breathed, but he didn't breathe. An inhale lasted him three blocks of the city, four. The streetlights stretched into lines like time lapses of stars.

An exhale as he rounded the corner toward STAR Labs—an exhale that stopped short when he saw the doors of the lab explode.

He catalogued the other aspects of the scene as he passed by them. Cisco restrained by two agents, his mouth open in a scream too slow to register as noise to Barry's ears. Priority number two.

Quinn, observing the scene with eyes full of orange. Priority number three.

Priority number one. The flames sank and smoldered. He had seconds. Seconds might be just enough.

He felt a flash of heat at his feet as he stepped over twisted metal and passed through the residual flames in the doorway, into the place he knew so well. Because of how well he knew it, he knew he could circle the entire lab in five seconds. But the countdown had already started. He had to narrow his search.

He started in the lower levels of the building, the closest place to where he entered. Down here was not only the pipeline and the metahuman who had been killed by the toxin, but Cisco's lab and some old storage spaces with equipment. Caitlin and Iris might have come down to take more blood samples from the meta, or to try to use materials from Cisco's lab.

It turned out, they'd done neither. The basement was empty. It only took a second and a half to scour it, but Barry couldn't help but feel that he'd wasted precious time, especially when he caught the echo of a broadcasted number:

 _"_ _Seven…_ "

The next likely place, and probably the most likely place to begin with, was obviously the cortex. As he sprinted up the stairs, he berated himself for not going there first. The sparks that rippled off of his body cast flashes of gold periodically throughout the dark hallway. He was a veritable one-man lightning storm.

His feet skidded on the gleaming floor. The cortex widened before him, a dark cavern, the aftermath of a horror film: salt-and-pepper TV screens, empty chairs, a smear of blood on the floor. His own heart throttled him as he took in the scene, and as he finally caught sight of the two figures against the opposite wall.

Iris and Caitlin both looked dead; it was not unreasonable to think they might be. Regardless, Barry pushed forward across the room.

With both women as dead— _no, not dead_ —weights, there was no way he could haul both of them away at once. Iris, the closer of the two, was in his arms first. Her hand slipped limply from Caitlin's, her body pliable like thin rubber. He tucked her tight against his chest and ran, ran, _ran_.

An ambulance stationed outside of STAR Labs came equipped with two wheeling gurneys. He deposited Iris gently on one. The urge to check her pulse was overpowering, and he was drawn to her like a magnet, but he was far from done.

When he burst back through the broken doors of the lab, he was desperate, sloppy, and a jagged piece of metal sliced through his foot like it was butter. He stumbled and thought of falling, but then he heard the mechanical voice again:

" _Three_ …"

He recouped, slamming against a wall in his determination to right himself. There was no room for pain, no time for weakness, just white walls and lightning. He skidded, slid, gritted his teeth.

Caitlin was still propped up against the wall of the cortex, her head lolling forward. Barry heaved her up into his arms and bolted.

" _Two…one…_ "

The fresh air sliced across Barry's face, and he skated on the concrete upon halting. The second gurney welcomed Caitlin's wilted form. Barry wasted no time in slipping out both syringes of antitoxin and administering them. Then, before he could wait for the antitoxin to hopefully kick in, he raced off toward priority two.

Cisco still struggled against the grip of the two agents, unaware of what Barry had done. Barry took each agent in turn, zooming them to separate locations five miles away. When he came back around to STAR, priority three still hadn't moved. Quinn didn't realize anything had gone awry.

It took another one and a half seconds for Barry to change into his civvies and come to a halt beside Cisco. He took in a breath. The world started back up again at normal speed, rushing over him like river water, and the inhale turned into gasps.

"Hey," he said, startling Cisco so badly the other man physically recoiled. "Sorry."

"They blew the doors," Cisco said breathlessly. His pupils were blown with fear. "Barry, they blew the doors, the decontamination process—"

Barry gripped Cisco's arms steadyingly. "They're out. I got them out."

 _It's over_ , he wanted to say. _One way or another, it's over_.

He guided Cisco backward toward the ambulance. The two EMTs who had been loitering near the vehicle appeared thoroughly baffled at the two new arrivals on the gurneys.

As for the two patients, both were stirring weakly, their faces scrunched in pain. Barry knew the feeling, but he also felt a glimmer at hope at the sign—the sign that the antitoxin was working. He and Cisco took their place between the two gurneys as the two women came back to their senses.

Even in the artificial light that Quinn and his agents had installed in the parking lot, it was hard not to view Iris and Caitlin as deathly. The video conversations had not accurately represented the pallor of their skin, how dingy and colorless even their clothes looked. Barry thought back to the sensation of being injected with the toxin, the feeling that his body was being sucked away from him. He couldn't imagine what it had been like, trapped there in the vastness of STAR, succumbing to death's advances over a period of hours, not minutes.

He hadn't allowed himself to think about that part of their predicament until now; but now, seeing how they looked so small on the hospital gurneys, Barry felt his knees buckling under the horror of it all.

Caitlin was the first to crack open her eyes. She shuddered as she took in her new surroundings blearily. A flush rose to her cheeks, and the blue began to fade from her lips—a blue that was uncannily like Killer Frost's. Even the slight fever-pink to the face and lips made her look more alive.

Iris was quick to follow, her movements groggy. She raised her hand to her face with listlessness, as if her arm was too heavy to lift.

"Hey," Cisco told the two women placatingly as they shifted restlessly, confusedly. "Take it easy, both of you. You're safe now."

"What—" Iris paused to clear her low, hoarse voice. "What happened?"

"We almost lost you, that's what happened," Cisco said. "No more heroics from either of you tonight. In fact, I say we all deserve a nice long respite and something warm to drink. Preferably with a splash of something even warmer mixed in, if you catch my drift."

"I knew you'd come," Caitlin mumbled, shivering. "You found an antitoxin?"

" _You_ found an antitoxin," Cisco corrected. "We got your fax. Genius idea, by the way."

"Iris gave me the idea, actually," Caitlin said. "Barry's blood. A few cc's of it allows us to produce enough antibodies to fight the toxin. From there, the formula was fairly simple."

"Simple," Cisco scoffed. "Simple enough as you're literally dying."

Caitlin looked down modestly, or perhaps uncomfortably. Iris hugged herself. It hadn't occurred to Barry, as sweaty as he was, how cold it was outside. He ducked past the still-baffled EMTs and snagged two shock blankets from the ambulance, which he handed to his two grateful friends.

"What about the two of you?" Iris pulled the blanket tight about her shoulders. Above dark shadows, her concerned eyes gave Barry a once-over, then Cisco. "Looks like you ran into trouble."

"When don't we?" Cisco swiped at the now-dried blood on his upper lip.

"Long story," Barry said. "We had a run-in with Gideon."

"Is he…"

"Quinn won't be able to get to his body," Cisco said determinedly. "We'll make sure of that."

"Speaking of which," Barry said, and he angled backward. He hadn't forgotten about Quinn, per se, but now that the more important priorities had been taken care of, the agent rose again to the forefront. Quinn was gesturing at a pair of agents in hazmat suits, his face red.

"Go, assess the damage," he was shouting. "And get that coroner ready."

"That won't be necessary." It was Cisco who stepped forward, forcing Quinn to swing around. The agent took in the scene with dumb shock, which morphed into confusion, then anger. It might have been a comical sight, Barry thought, if he hadn't been given Cisco's account of the man's character.

"You're—" He pointed an accusing finger at Caitlin and Iris. "How did you get out?"

One of the agents who had activated the detonator spoke up. "The Flash was here, sir. I saw him, the Flash." The other agent murmured his assent, and Quinn went a shade redder.

"Well, I don't see him now, do you? What are you waiting for? Find him!" He gestured wildly, and the two men dispersed. His attention turned back to the group. "As for you…" He resumed his march toward them and snagged another agent as he did, a half-grimace, half-smile on his face. "Thanks to the heroics of the Flash, these women are alive and now in government custody. Have them transferred to the weapons research center. Immediately."

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! Can't believe there's only one chapter to go. Wow, nothing bad can happen in the last chapter can it? Can it?**

 **Comments fuel my soul! See you Wednesday!**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


	12. Chapter 12

**I won't say I'm recovered after last night's episode. But I've gotta keep it together for the sake of this last chapter. Tune in afterward for the long-ass author note you've probably come to expect from my stories.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

"These women are alive and now in government custody. Have them transferred to the weapons research center. Immediately."

As men started to close in around them, Barry and Cisco automatically stepped in front of Iris and Caitlin. Even though panic fluttered up in Barry's throat, he forced himself to stay grounded. He practically growled when he said, "I don't think so."

Quinn tilted his head warningly. "Allen, stay out of this."

Barry felt Cisco tense up next to him, muscles winding up like a spring. He knew exactly what was going through the other man's mind: Barry was also judging the number of people standing around the parking lot, wondering if he had enough energy left in the tank to knock all of them out before they had time to stop him. With the massive amounts of energy he'd already spent, not to mention the residual toxin effects, he knew the answer was no. He could only outrun so many bullets at once, and that was to say nothing about his friends.

Still, he said, "Pack up your cloak and dagger and go home, Quinn." _Last chance_ , he wanted to add.

Quinn scoffed. "You can't tell me what to do."

His lackeys closed in. Barry's muscles filled with the cold fire of desperation, and he tensed. Someone—Iris—touched his arm as if to say _It's okay. It's not worth it._

"I can."

Everyone, including Quinn, swung around at the new voice. Pushing past confused agents, flanked by half a dozen police officers, was Joe West. Grimness carved hard, immovable lines in his face. Barry had known the expression only a few times in his childhood, those times he'd done something egregiously irresponsible or dangerous.

It meant that Joe was serious. Deadly serious.

"Detective," said Quinn, saying the title as if it was the name of something he'd found beneath his fingernails. "You're too late; we have this investigation under wraps. Best say goodbye to your daughter now. I'm not sure how long we'll have to keep her in our custody. These things take…time, you understand."

"I just left the Mayor's house," said Joe, planting himself between Quinn and Barry, Cisco, Iris, and Caitlin, "where I reported your activities here tonight in full detail. When I left, she was on the phone to Washington."

"Get out of my way, detective."

"Make me. I dare you."

Before Quinn could respond, a flustered young woman with hair drawn tight at the nape of her neck pushed past two other agents. "Mr. Quinn," she said. "I've just spoken to Washington. I have orders to confiscate your credentials and your weapon."

Quinn was uncompromising. "Excuse me?"

"You're on suspension," the woman explained, "and to be detained pending full investigation of your conduct."

The entire parking lot went silent. Someone shifted, and the gravel crunch was amplified tenfold. Other than that, nobody moved. Even the agents who had gotten within grabbing distance of Iris and Caitlin halted in their tracks.

There were enough of Quinn's men to overwhelm all of them, all six of Joe's cops plus the three of them defending Caitlin and Iris. Barry knew it, and he was even more certain that Joe and Quinn knew it. One snap of the fingers, Washington be damned, and none of them would see the light of day again.

Barry had heard the words _weapons research facility_ before, and the last time he had tried to break someone out of one of those, he had been doused in acid foam.

His fingers shook. He clenched them.

When Quinn spoke, his voice was so low and poisonous that it practically sizzled in the cool night air. "This will never stick." Without taking his eyes off of Joe, he produced his badge and his gun from inside his coat. "I've done nothing to exceed my authority. Nothing."

"Mr. Quinn, let's have a jury decide that." Barry, Cisco, and Joe all angled to give Iris space. While she still shivered, propped up only by an elbow, her eyes were telling—they were Joe's. "I don't know if we've been properly introduced. Iris West. Reporter at Picture News."

Barry didn't like the look Quinn gave her then. "So?"

Despite the monstrous glare, and with great effort, Iris levered herself upward into a sitting position. "So, tomorrow, I'm going to go to work and blow the whistle on you and your entire operation. Now go crawl back under your rock."

Though she and Quinn were thirty feet apart, it might as well have been a slap. Quinn's cheekbones glowed bright pink with anger and he, too, clenched his fists, if briefly. It occurred to Barry then that it was a small miracle, perhaps, that Quinn had just relinquished his gun.

After another long, tense moment, the man's mouth tightened, and he lurched away toward the waiting police officers.

Barry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and his shoulders relaxed. Suddenly very jittery, he turned back toward the gurneys.

"Well said, Ms. West," Caitlin said exhaustedly, falling back flat onto the bed now that the confrontation was over. She reached over and brushed Iris' arm, a gesture not as playful as it was intended to be. Iris, too, let her head fall onto the pillow.

Joe, now looking heaps less severe but also far older, strode toward the gurneys and positioned himself at the head of the one Iris was lying on. He brushed the hair from Iris' face before leaning down to place a tender kiss on her forehead.

"You scared me," he said, before lifting his face to the rest of the group. "All four of you. One of these days you're going to give me a serious heart attack."

"Not today, though," said Iris sleepily. "Today we got the bad guy."

"Yeah," Cisco said, and again Barry wondered if they were thinking of the same thing—of Gideon, lying dead at the pumping station. Or maybe Quinn and the dogtags he treasured.

"Speaking of which," said Joe, "I've got to accompany Quinn back to the station. Then we can start the hunt for our invisible man."

"No need," said Barry. Joe shot him a quizzical look. "He's taken care of. I'll explain later."

"You'd better," Joe said. "Okay. Rest up. I'm serious." His hand traced through Iris' hair once more before landing on Caitlin's shoulder. "I know none of you like to stay down for long, but you owe it to yourselves to get healthy." He squeezed Caitlin's shoulder and she gave a smile in response. Apparently satisfied he'd done his job, Joe shrugged back into a defensive position and pushed back toward Quinn.

Barry followed Joe to where Quinn was standing, where he was flanked by two officers. Handcuffed and surrounded, he looked smaller than he ever had. But, despite it all, he somehow looked more terrifying. The murder in his eyes was unrestrained now, and those eyes gave Barry a once-over as he approached.

"Allen," he said. "Last I saw, you were in handcuffs and told to stay far away from my investigation."

"Seeing how it's not your investigation anymore, I think I'm safe," Barry retorted.

Quinn smiled humorlessly. "I don't suppose you have a reason for coming over here?"

Barry shrugged. "Thought you should know that a guy in a red suit just told me that Gideon is dead." He looked hard at Quinn. "Now, I can't make heads or tails of this statement, but I figured I should let you know before you're sent off to a lifetime of jail service."

Quinn looked at him darkly. Barry ground his teeth.

"One more thing," he said. "If you come near my friends again, you're going to have to answer to me."

"Oh?" said Quinn. "I'll have to answer to you, will I? And you'll science me to death, I suppose?"

"Something like that." Barry set his jaw, and he felt Joe's hand warningly on his back.

"Hm." Quinn's eyes traveled lazily downward. "You're bleeding, Allen." Barry looked down. Indeed, on the foot that had been stabbed clean through by metal, blood was seeping through the thin material of his white sneakers. In the rush of adrenaline, he had completely forgotten about the injury. Quinn's lips quirked, his eyes dark. "Don't want any of that precious blood going to waste."

Barry swallowed hard. His fingers spasmed again, but he could not break eye contact with Quinn. He could not let the other man see him falter.

"See you around, Allen."

"Yeah," said Barry. "Just give me your cellblock number."

Quinn lunged forward toward Barry, but Joe caught him around the middle and hauled him backward. "That's enough from you. In you go. Now." The detective shoved Quinn none-too-kindly into the cruiser and slammed the door. When Joe turned back to Barry, he was flushed. "You okay?"

"Fine," Barry said. "He didn't touch me."

"I know," said Joe. "Your foot."

"It's fine," Barry repeated, although now that his attention had been drawn to it, he had to admit that his foot hurt like hell. "I'm just glad this is over."

Barry turned away from the cruiser, from which he knew Quinn was staring. Joe also turned outward toward the cleanup around the parking lot. "Didn't you get the impression that…"

"That he knows?" Barry grimaced. "Just make sure he gets locked up, Joe."

"You know it," said Joe. "Take care of yourself. And take care of them. I'll check in later." He patted Barry on the shoulder and swung back toward the cruiser.

Deadened by exhaustion, Barry limped back to his group of friends. They perked up at his arrival—at least, Cisco did. Iris and Caitlin's eyes were the only thing that moved, both women appearing to be on the verge of passing out.

"Everything good?" Cisco asked.

"Peachy," Barry responded, mimicking his position and hopping up on the edge of Iris' gurney. The release of pressure from his foot made him hiss. "When can we go back into STAR? I'm starving."

"The decontamination procedures should be done," Caitlin said sleepily. "They only take a few seconds."

"We should wait until all of these bozos clear out," Cisco said, jamming a thumb the direction of the agents, who were loading equipment back into trucks and speaking confusedly into cellphones.

Barry frowned at Iris and Caitlin. "You two should go home—you need a decent rest. I'll take you. And you…" He looked at Cisco, who had begun scratching dried blood from his upper lip. "No offense, but you look terrible. You should rest, too."

"I'd rather be around all of you," Cisco said. "In fact, I don't think I want to leave you guys ever again. Trapped alone in quarantine with god-knows-what invisible things…eurgh."

"STAR isn't so bad," Iris said, her eyelids falling shut. "It's home. And I'm not afraid of ghosts."

* * *

Caitlin swept up the last bits of glass from the floor and tied off the trash bag. Cisco had already scrubbed clean the spot of the blood spill, though she could still picture it vividly. The image of the broken vial of Barry's blood still sent a jolt of nausea through her, a gut reaction to the memory.

"You're lucky the extra power didn't fry these computers," Cisco was saying, ducking beneath the central computer bank in the cortex. "I mean, look at this."

"You're the one who installed the emergency power and showed me how to use it," Iris countered. "I was just following your instructions."

"I didn't anticipate having to use it during a total system lockdown," Cisco said. "It's worked during all my tests. You just did a number on it."

"We were literally dying."

"Caitlin, you don't have to clean all that up."

Caitlin perked up at the address. The broken glass crashed to the bottom of the trash bag. "Don't deflect from Iris," she said. "You're arguing that the life of your computers takes priority over our ability to communicate with the outside world."

"I'm doing no such thing," Cisco said. "You, on the other hand, are deflecting _me_. Give yourself some time to rest."

"No, let's talk more about your computers," said Iris with a smug arm cross.

Cisco threw his hands in the air just as Barry _whooshed_ into the room. "Barry, they're ganging up on me."

"That's rough, buddy," Barry said, falling into a chair and tugging off his boot.

Caitlin moved forward. "Is your foot healing?" she asked, at the same time that Iris said, "Did you get Gideon?"

"Yes, and yes," Barry said. "I moved Gideon to our, uh, morgue. With the meta from the other day." He massaged his foot, where still visible was the injury from the broken metal.

"That's grim," Cisco said. "But he's probably better off, right? Gideon, I mean. Imagine if Quinn got his hands on him." He let loose an exaggerated shudder. "Gives me the creeps just thinking about it."

"Lucky he didn't get his hands on either of you," Iris said to Barry and Cisco.

"Lucky he didn't get his hands on any of us," Caitlin corrected. "Not for lack of trying. I say we be glad that he's behind bars and leave it at that."

"Behind bars in real life, not in my nightmares," said Cisco, diving into one of the drawers for a Red Vine. He looked remarkably better with all of the blood washed off of his face, Caitlin had to admit. Luckily, his nose hadn't been broken, though he still sported a remarkable black eye from the kick to the face.

He and Barry had recounted everything that had happened outside of STAR Labs for Caitlin and Iris' benefit, after a few hours of an intense group napping session, of course, and told over generous helpings of hot chocolate and buttered pasta—the strange combo that had somehow become commonplace comfort food among the team.

Caitlin had been wondering what Barry and Cisco were up to outside of the STAR Labs walls, but her immediate situation, and her and Iris' failing health, had dominated her thoughts too much to focus too pointedly on the activities of her friends. Hearing about the verbal fights with Quinn and the physical fights with Gideon now, though, shocked her. She didn't know why it still surprised her, the lengths her friends would go to save her life and Iris', but it did.

But that was what it was all about, wasn't it? Two members of the team may have been cut off beyond the walls of STAR Labs, but the walls had never really been walls; STAR Labs wasn't exclusively a place anymore.

"I'm sorry, again, for not telling you about my former research," Caitlin said softly. "I'm not convinced Gideon was entirely wrong about us."

"STAR Labs then isn't STAR Labs now," Iris reassured her.

"I know, I just…" Caitlin looked around at each of them. "Any of us could've died last night. Or all of us. All because of some stupid research."

Barry released his foot and frowned. "Gideon didn't have any right to use that research in the way he did, though."

Caitlin bit her lip. "No."

"No, I get it," Cisco said. "I get what you're saying, Cait. We made a lot of mistakes back when we were working for Thawne. And the people who were affected by our mistakes aren't entirely wrong in being angry. That's what's bothering you, isn't it?" Caitlin nodded. "And that's why we keep trying to be better. Just like STAR Labs then isn't STAR Labs now, we aren't the people now that we were then."

"Plus, you were being manipulated," Barry said. "All of us were. By Eobard. And that makes things a whole lot hazier."

"I don't think Gideon deserved to die." Caitlin said it quietly, reluctantly.

Iris covered her hand with her own. "I don't, either. I wish we could have talked to him."

"I did talk to him, unsuccessfully," Barry said. "I don't think anything we could have said would've made a difference."

"No." They lapsed into a brief silence. Barry resumed massaging his injured foot, Cisco scratched at his eye, Iris leaned heavily against the table—all licking their own wounds, all quietly and guiltily magnetized to one another. _We are all responsible_ , Gideon had said, according to Barry.

"What he said about the pale horse," Iris said, finally breaking the quiet. "I figured out why it rang a bell. It's a verse from the Bible. One of the four horsemen of the apocalypse is riding a pale horse. Bringing death."

"One of the four horsemen, huh?" Cisco looked at all of them and gave a private smirk. Iris squeezed Caitlin's hand. Caitlin allowed herself a deep breath.

"He didn't win," Iris said. "Looks like we overcame an apocalypse."

"One of many." Barry leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the table. Usually Caitlin would object to the gesture, but it didn't seem terribly important now. "Speaking of horses, aren't you sad you didn't join us for a peaceful night at the horseraces last night?"

"Ugh," Iris said. "You know I hate horses. The only horse I'm betting on is the Flash."

Barry barked out a laugh. "I'm not sure the Flash is the only horse running anymore. And I'm even less sure that it's a race."

"Oh?" Caitlin said. "Then what is it?"

Barry considered a moment more. He looked at each of them in turn, pensive. "I don't know," he said finally. "Something else. Something good, I think."

Iris' hand was warm against Caitlin's. Life, power, energy.

Suddenly, Barry broke into a grin. "Hey, we could still go to roller derby! You said you wanted to see that, didn't you?"

Iris shook her head. "Sorry, I don't think I have the energy to go out." Cisco murmured his assent.

"I should also keep working on that report," Caitlin said. When Barry looked at her quizzically, she sighed dramatically. "Superhuman painkillers? Ring a bell?"

"I know!" Cisco interrupted. "I can hook up the projector in here so we can watch roller derby from home. I have an ice cream stash in the basement, too."

"Ice cream?" Barry said, waggling his eyebrows at Caitlin.

"I don't—"

"And popcorn!" Cisco added.

"Guys—" Caitlin tried, her efforts less and less convincing by the second.

"And lots of root beer, too," Barry concluded.

"Oh, that sounds like just what the doctor ordered," Iris said. She side-eyed Caitlin. "Right, doctor?"

 _The reports_ , Caitlin's mind screamed. _Yo_ _u've got to finish your reports. There's so much work to be done._

But she ignored all of that. A smile growing on her face, she took in the rest of the sorry bunch. "I'll get the blankets and pillows."

* * *

 **Author note time.**

 **First and foremost, thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story. I know I say this a lot, but it means so much to me that you've invested a few minutes each week in my writing. A double thank you to everyone who has left a comment, whether on one chapter or on each (and sometimes multiple on each!). Every time I think I'm wasting my time with fanfiction or shouting into a void that doesn't care about what I write, all of you are there to give me a reason to keep being creative.**

 **Speaking of writing fanfiction, I want to let you all know that there is, in fact, another longfic in the works, but it will be my last for the forseeable future. At least, that's the plan now. I have been blessed with a supportive group of readers and writers in this community, but I think I need to try stepping out for a bit. (Do I say that a lot? I feel like I say that a lot.) All that said, I'm about halfway through this fic now, so hopefully in the next month or two I can start posting it-I hope you'll join me for it! And, never fear, even if I step away from these longer fics, there will probably always be drabbles and one-shots.**

 **Finally, if you haven't seen this 1990 episode, I encourage you to do so! It was a great pleasure having the opportunity to adapt it, and I hope you found some of the same pleasures in reading it. But seriously, the 1990 effects are stellar. Highly recommended.**

 **Thanks for taking this ride with me. I love you all, and I'll see you very soon, I'm sure.**

 **Till next time,**

 **Penn**


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